Cracks that bleed
Popping at the seams
A nation of thieves
"Strong vs weak"
This thin veneer
Is catching less ears
More apt to see
Those shed their fear
Casting light
On treacherous plights
Orchestrated by the rich
Maintained by knife
Many are sick
Of the daily strife
A wealthy nation
Where poverty is life

the bottle had become
my comfort
and I allowed myself
to drown

i tried to swim
back up
but your hate
kept pulling
me down

under the shell, inside
my chest, lies a hole,
blacked and beatting still
all the sorrow burn it down
at my 20s, later the pain becomes
a chain hollow and vain

and after all y become free,
from the chains self made
for contain the pain,
only need the one
, that breaks the spell
hearing
nutshel  in my heart

he give my stregth to persist
untill im dead y will die free,
as a man not a creep or a shame,
just a ***** man, trying to be free
fromm pain and deceit.

sacre femme set my freee
fromm the pain and release me
fromm  the burden of shame
and the eyes in my back, looking
some girl to wash them
and take the stains by loving me.

as a beast looking for the one, who
let him free fromm chains of the curse
just by love the sacred connection
that perhaps will set me free.

Arms are weak and withered,
and the strings won't heed his shaking hands.
Pain's his only feeling, and that can't convey
what his gasping heart hungers to say
About her smile.. about her eyes,..
about her gasping breaths so frail and grey.

The symphony has begun
Playing mellow tunes
Beckoning the arrival of death
At the expense of him.
But his strings won't let him
Change the way the music is going,
His clammy hands trembling,
Shaking,
Breaking.
(He wore his heart on his hands.)
All he can do is watch
And listen
As the music drifts,
Deeper, slower...
Until her heart
Stops.

Arms are weak and withered, holding
cards upon the table. Folding
never was his strong suit anyway.
He waits a while in silence, knowing
her pain is no nearer to slowing.
Growing screams beckon plugs to pull away.
He doesn't know what's left to play,
but his withered fingers seem to know the way.

She listens as the melody starts,
and falters as she closes her eyes.
Arms are withered weary,
as the music slowly dies.

But as the silence comes around,
It revitalizes an old strength.
Calling upon the fundamentals of
An art once forgotten,
But its tremors will now resonate.

Tremors mark his trembling hands,
and the music is April, alive and new.
The monotone flat-line droning on
is in metronome time like when they were young,
and he matches her tempo, like they used to do.
He plays her life, her laugh, her smile...
The music stops, and after a while
the day is through. And he thinks to himself...
*Tonight is over... and there's the dawn...
But it marks the start of a day...
                                                   without you...

My room,
Both a death camp and a safe zone,
Rather wither away,
Than face execution.

Open door,
Deep breath,
Failure.

Hand over my feelings,
back to bed,
laying there,
friends were a conspiracy.

Leaving this house a teenage floor of lava,
To the armory,
Wield headphones and an over grown coat.

Open door,
Deep breath,
Stand.

The sun hurt as if i just left a space ship,
Fear of both know and unknown,
On this planet I was the alien.

Open gate,
Deep breath,
Walk.

Pavements conveyor belts,
Pushing out ghouls of society,
Cubicle bound,
Grey walls.

Yet still asked why so scared,
Of what I wish was just in my head,
This earth,
The land of dead.

"Now, this is a view
That I wish I could see forever"*  you sighed, whilst peering at the landscape
That tumbled in front of us in a way that only nature could!
"I agree," I smiled, glancing at only you, taking your hand and silently wishing that you will be my forever-view.

Saddness ***** my voice out
Guilt steals my air
Tragedy poisens my tears
Because of Crying I no longer care

Mozzarella on my Pizza just burnt my tongue
Moral of this event:
" The one you love the most is the one who hurts you the most."