Once upon a time
far in mind and far away,
I searched for a treasure gold.
I wanted anything, even a dime
to make this journey worth its stay.
Even if I could take back what I told.

It could be something magical.
I have heard of a fair princess
whose rescuing is required,
but sadly it would be impractical
to put myself through such stress
if I am not the prince so desired.

I walked along a pebbled road
and decided that none of this is real,
for my imagination I did fail.
Of this conclusion it did bode
that I had lied when I did kneel.
Why would I want to be in such a tale?

I did not join their fair fold
and so I will have retired
from the land to which I was to entail.
Even if I could take back what I told,
if I am not the prince so desired,
why would I want to be in such a tale?

What a dreamland it was when I awoke.
I walked outside to the rainbow of color.
I could dance with the flowers
sing with the birds
and laugh with the wind.
There is so much joy here
that it saddens me to know
that life is so fleeting.
Fleeting,
fleeting,
fleeting...
Flowers on the grave.
Birds drifting above.
The wind, cold and biting
the loving relatives.
The color fades from his face
as he enters another dreamland,
a flower in each hand.

I tried to tell myself again,
but sometime along the way, I stuttered.
The words seemed scrambled
and I'm not sure if I heard what was uttered.
It's not really a big deal though.
I've been lying to myself so much
That I'm surprised I still notice.
I try to listen to what I touch.
The echos are still fading,
But never quite disappear.
Do they find it distasteful?
Yes i believe they are sincere.
In my dream I walked so far
That my lies could not travel with me.
Such a heavy burden had been lifted,
But realty had no such mercy.

A body of water vast and flowing
to the current of humanity knowing
that deep within the monsters fest.

An eye of the storm fighting
to see through the mist shrouding
the truth that they jest.

The spaced and empty mind seeking
knowledge but still knowing
that not knowing is sometimes best.

To start with a massive explosion
of disorientated frowns made like smiles.
A see-through disclaimer
unable to hold onto its fine point.
Only the start of the year
but already giving up on faith,
but what is faith but a bold lie
like how snow is just frozen rain,
bitterly cold, but still finds a way
to create joy...
And now we begin again
in the ashes of a disaster
hoping that new life can sprout again.

Ever quiet it is in this smoke grey town.
There the rascals run through the alleys and on their faces, a frown.
And there patrol the widows around the cracked stone square.
A faint echo comes from the alleys, full of despair.
Stroll to the playground where as weeds have taken control,
and there sits a child that is quiet and null.
An army of tears run down that solemn face
as he longs for the warmth of a mother’s embrace.
And so he fades into a wavering cloud of dust
and leaves behind nothing but a smoky gust.
But what else is to come from an empty shell?
Such a lonely fate you can not dispel.
Yet the town still exists without that child.
Appearing so clearly primitive and wild.
A shadow not cast from any specific object
but the omniscient part of a larger project.
A man in ragged clothing walks in to the town
with nothing on his but a frown.
Just some wrinkled skin and lips on his head.
There are no eyes, ears, nose, or hair on that spread.
For he is the creator of the sadness we feel.
So he is the one who can never conceal.
Though this is true, it seemed he liberated them all.
The sadness came to him like leaves to the ground in the Fall.
The town became bright again with color and light.
For a long time the happy folk did not need to fight.
Yet sadness always finds a way to devour the mood,
so that town once again became the succulent food
of ever persisting and primordial darkness.
Until once again that man could take onto him,
never ending sadness.