I reduce my pen to a sword,
As I violently
penetrate the naked page,

At last, an honest poem.

My knight does not need to be
in shining armor,
nor blessed with prestige
or countless honor.

It only needs to be you,
someone who could wield
a sword, respectable enough
to be able to strike a heart of gold.

An attempt to tempt temptation we're facing
The entire nation is wasting
While the time clock is racing
Sitting idle I dwell
Don't know what to do
A bottomless well
filled with good intentions
That I forgot to mention
while men's sons
climb the walls
Fingers bleed
so I choose to run
Pain outweighed only by guilt
An attempt to hide so no one would see
Added my hand by not lending a hand
The inevitable entropy

Criticize the critter's size
This infiltration among us
A monstrous demon
indeed in need of expatriation
The daily battle uphill
An upheaval, this weasel
An endless war of soldiers who sold their souls
Signed their mark on the dotted line
Became a mere dot left in time
Sand in the glass we know will not last
Last train leaves the station
Can not stay
Have been shunned

Should have listened when told
On an endless list now too old
The souls that time has forgotten
A swirl in the whirlpool for getting into this mess
A choice we did not choose
Being lost made us lose
A loser with nothing to lose
Loose with our lips
Quick with the fists
A tunnel with no light
The endless darkness in sight
Filled with fear, we do not fright
For what is wrong feels so right
Take the plunge
I just might
Endlessly spinning in time
while getting so high
Spinning out of control
This way I live, this way I die