I will ask you a question
“Do you remember the child you once were?
Who colored the crayons beyond the lines, shaping everything in that child’s imagination.
That painted the rivers green and the trees blue, full of wonder, putting nothing in order.
Now, I ask you this… What happened to that child?”
Why is that child now organizing the shapes, his head now a machine on rotate
He solves the puzzles but not his dreams
He gives the leaves a touch green, and rivers with blue...
What happened to the child who once ruled the world?
Now the World ruled the child."
She grew thorns...
Not to lure him in
But to keep him out
who was deception
For as beautiful as she was,
She was dangerous within
Her petals holding secrets
No world could bear...
She grew thorns
All to protect
Her fragile heart
The surface of the water ripples
like little portals to another world
the stone sinks through
and then disappears
The water becomes still
the portals have closed
but maybe, just maybe
I can still get through
To go to another place
far away from here
where I have no one
and no one cares
Maybe if I got there
people with love me
I'll be happy
I'll be wanted
The ripples, a splash
is all that's left
swallowing the stone like mist
before everything disappears
It is lurking around the globe
The Dark Master's watchful eye entrails vigilant control
Binding us to the Lord of Lies
For those whom chooses not to offend the Master
They are playing the meek and obedient
Overhauled rationality and discernment
Unnerving capitalists had drained our blood
Left us as inanimate shells
The one eye casts deep hallucination
In which the mindless slaves rot
Wasting away the glint of soul
The vast labyrinth seeps into the mind
Hijacking reason and freewill
They have transfixed the humanity
Impoverished and cremated the innocent by their debauchery
Forced the mass into extinction
They hoard everything and starve the rest of the world
This world of black and white
filled with words bursting of colors
I hear things,
wind chimes swaying softly
in the warm, night breeze
the sound of pure bliss
yet there are still
the beautiful soft words, of
a young soul, drawing inspiration
and a very quiet pain.
He is 18, he never heard
of William Shakespeare or Beethoven.
He love football and love smoking weed
he wants to be rich and live like a king.
He feels upset about his life, though,
he feels guilty and doesn't pray anymore.
He rarely smiles, only when is high,
he never cries, he'd rather die.
He gets angry of a smallest things,
he swears and shouts, he feels like shit.
He was born abroad, but raised in here.
He never liked West, and its ' sinful filth'.
He never belonged here, thrown into the hat
of accidental fate, which brought him here once.
He hates this country never calls it home.
It hurts him seeing his motherland bombed.
He is 18 he never heard
of William Shakespeare and Beethoven.
He doesn't belong here, he fucks all this shit,
he doesn't feel like being a part of it.
I knew not of the world I was living in,
the existance here, as bleak as the mourning clouds,
Trolled by the heavens, and hell alike,
This living, is worthless
Where once flowed the river
Where once blowed the peaceful air
Is now dead
Not as dead though, as the people living there
So as destiny pours stammers on our way
Let everything be done, as they may
I watch the blunders curl
As I pretend to live in this worthless world!