I'm a young kind of broken
I don't break easily, but I break consistently

I haven't devoted half my life to a love
Only to watch it flicker and dissolve

I haven't drowned in bills I can't pay
Handing my dinner off to my better bits of DNA

I'm a young kind of broken

I break at the sight of documentaries
Hosting hate, disease and inhumanities

I break at hurting Grandmothers
Euthanized dogs and dead Grandfathers

I break consistently, a young kind of broken
Holding in my arms love, hope and humanity
But I can't handle it all, so I may let a piece drop out
Every once in a while
And when I bend to pick it up
They all come crashing down

I'm a young kind of broken
Broken all the same

All my broken elders:
Would you let me break with you?
Will you be there to help collect what remains?

Scarred and thrown into ruin where the hooligans fly in
Hurt to the swells of the most troubling and aching smarts
Spurting heartbreak and all the weaving of all that is hollow and dark
When I was a slave I guess I had no DNA or human mark
But in the eyes of the spotlight,  you're a star and now your attention is what keeps focus on par


Endure then the hells and swings so bitter as if you had no showings of a human better
The obsequious gods expelling only supercilious attitudes; then it's right
when the deed is done by the one high on the steeds of time it is no crime
But a common man doing harm will be thrown to the wolves like he is not worth a dime
It's okay when the master whips and steals bonds but the lower man trying to thread his life and bond with a love will be manipulated into despair and forms concocting separation will be effected on the pair
after all tears and inhumanities;  NOW YOU CAN BE COUNTED AS A PERSON
After eating their excretions and being made to feel as less than a thing - now you matter


Where feminism would be on a high but with much oblige,
She hurts others and steals and lies and cheats on her lover but granted, pardon your highness, she has done no wrong She is The victim
Oh dear oh dear;  where is justice - it a force so fair
dear oh dear, where is love? it a feeling so clear so cheer
---- Man hurts others and steals and lies and cheats on his lover, oh grant not such nonsense your honour for he is no different to a murderer or a ******* or ******
oh tear oh tear this man can only read about justice in his jail cell on his long walk to mobility
Oh sail oh sail, tears fountain his face and drain his heart of sensitivity -- love rots with the amount of his teeth cavity
where push-ups and mopping the floors gives him levity

But woman or man; shouldn't we be counted human all the same?
Once you undermine the divine feeling that can be expressed by another;  respect, love, empathy, trust, honesty, appreciation - then you have begun a war against your own liberty, dignity and humanity... But if you free these feelings or angelic gems then we open up the gates for the sacred and heavenly divine
and then perhaps each person can be counted before they are classified.

My writing can't always be filled with heartbreak and getting over loss.
Tonight I'll write for her, the one who helped me more than she knows.
Whether she views me as a brother, or as more than I friend I care for her.
I've said way too many things to her that I mean, than I meant to say.
If that is a good thing I will never know, but she may know if I asked.
She supports the way I think, and doesn't mind when I say my awkward thoughts.
I am writing for the one who gave me the strength to try to write a happy message.
I am writing because I don't want people to get the wrong idea about me at the same time as writing for her.
I am not the one who is always stuck in some rut that can only be escaped through helping others.
That is just the kind of person that I am.
I want to write music with the girl, and I want it to be stuck in my head to justify thinking about her.
I want to say all of the stupid things I can say before she asks me to stop.
I would like to make a friendship something more, even if that just means being a brother to her.
I don't want her to be hurt by anything anymore, and I know I can't do that but I have to try.
Even if every sweet word I say stings, it was meant well.
Even if I can't fix her broken heart, I can remind her that someone is there.
Would a song help if I wrote it, and not just any song.
A song about what the world has done, and any other inhumanities I feel hurt.
A song about what I feel to let her know that I care.
A song that is just for her whenever she wants to hear it.
I don't know what song I should make, but if I hit the right notes it could be what she needs.
Music won't fix a broken heart, and neither will making something just for someone else.
Giving someone the strength to find closure is what you need to do, but if you don't know how to give it to them they will hurt for longer.
Music is what keeps her going, so music will be the message to help her heal.

So glad I can always escape to my dreams
Away from these people and away from these things,
Somewhere safer, unimaginable,
Somewhere where my cup isn't always full
     But at least it's happy.

I can get what I want from waking life,
By exploring my sleeping life,
The only problem is when I wake
I've kind of got a choice to make,
Is it better to live or better to let it pass,
     To sedate myself and live euphorias
     Or wake every day to the heartbreak, turmoil and inhumanities of the waking world.

I guess we'll see.

Study me
Etch your recordings
And findings
Display me in cages
And book cases bindings
My kind did to yours
Far more worse
Inhumanities
When we spoke alien
Language
Profanities
All that was heard
All we saw
Was the enemy
Somehow at odds
With what we
All pretend to be
Not just a *******
Reflection
Of people
Behaving like animals
Eating their equals
And keeping the rest
In repressive states
Vexed
By the next culture war
To determine whose best