There used to be a bottle on the wall.
It was very green.
I'm sure it was the loneliest green bottle
that I had ever seen
It used to sit on the wall
all day and all night
And every day, when I looked out of the window,
it was always in my line of sight
Then one day, a cat came along.
Something was going to happen; I could tell
The cat then accidentally nudged it
and off the wall, it fell
When it had fallen off the wall
it had dropped with a very loud sound.
There were all these little pieces of the green bottle
all over the ground
Then the cat yelped
and I knew it had gotten hurt
I could quite obviously see its paws were caked in
blood and dirt
The bottle wasn't harmful in the beginning
it did not look the slightest bit treacherous
but after a nudge in the wrong direction
it became very dangerous
Now I look back at you smiling
next to me on the big armchair
Your fingers running through your soft locks of hair.
You remind me a lot
of that green bottle.
In the beginning, you were harmless
you were all sorts of fun.
Now you hurt me.
Could you tell me why
as I don't quite know what I've done

Rage makes me roar my loudest.
All around me demeaning chuckles.
So I walk off into the forest.
Then I return with ****** knuckles.

The dead lie like Rome,
Like toppled sunshine in stone,
From a boy who had blown
Into the seashell of the Forum,
Heard back in restoning, the alley of home,
The narrow, basket-flowered angiportum…
But, lips too strong, let out unknown
The stone-witherings of Medusa
And the bone dust of empire.

The Man of the Forest

Beyond your Earth, across the galaxy
Resides a boy, rather unhappily.
He has a name, they call him Solis,
He imagines he is The Man of the Forest.

A place with strange human-like aliens,
With glowing white skin, and black souls hiding in.
With dormant wings and sharp teeth,
With rainbow eyes, and smart brains beneath.

On a planet where each town is exactly the same,
Acting like their given name.
The town of purity with placid faces and plain smiles,
Jobs given at birth, an unlikely life style.

One duty is to hold their sins.
The Sinner keeps them beneath his skin.
Never can a word leave Solis’ mouth,
Or lay his fate, facing the south.

Doesn’t matter how bad the crime,
He can’t talk, he can’t mime.
Once they come and speak
They forget about their disgraced feat.

The burden is left for him to bare.
Bare it alone to avoid a judging stare.
No choice, disobey the Priest he wouldn’t dare.
Too many tears he has spilled that aren’t his,
No choice, it is what it is.

But as the years went by and by,
He got up and learned to fly.
Like a bird, all through the sky.
Each day he practiced more and more,
Until he reached the clouds to soar.

Then with joy and little care,
He dropped their sins from the air.
Solis was finally free,
He shouted and laughed then screamed “Whoopee!”

But as he watched them fall down and down.
He saw them heading towards his town.
Like seeds they burrowed beneath the ground.
They spread their dark and sticky roots around.

It happened quickly and with no mercy
The once pretty town, now broken and *****.
Gone were the strange people that lived there,
Their bodies and minds unable to handle what he had bared.

The tears that dripped down his face were only his.
To sin, what a sorrow it is.
The guilt that weighed him down was from his own creation.
Solis fluttered down from the sky and landed in the housing station.
The place he wished to burn so many times,
Was finally gone and all he felt was the need to pay for his crimes.

He stretched his wings and shot up into the stars,
To search for a planet with trains and cars.
But as he reached the moon he found he couldn’t breathe,
All of his tears had left him lonely and aggrieved.

He fell back into the darkness
Until the light was less and less.
Solis is now nothing but space
Gone was the last hope for his race.

Beyond your Earth, across the galaxy,
Lived a man, rather unhappily.
He had a name, they called him Solis.
He once imagined he was The Man of the Forest.

This nameless thing is a quiet friend of mine.
It has been there since the day that I turned fine.
It is the reason why my face is all set in stone.
It is the reason why I’m happy through the phone.

It is the reason why I always feel blank.
Or do I feel blank?
No, I don’t, but what do I know?
Only that I am capable of faking a pretty show.

Whilst you talk about your day, I will listen with rapt attention.
Whist you speak about your sorrows, happiness I will mention.
But do I really listen? Do I really sympathize?
Partly empathy. But I don’t know why, so I just tell lies.

What does guilt feel like? Regret? Grief? Love?
If you asked me how I felt about my family, then I would say all of the above.
But is that really true?
I don’t know, do you?

I know I would miss them, and I would surely cry.
But why?

I know I am comfortable, around us and with us.
I won’t bother trying to hide,
The emptiness I don’t feel inside.
But it’s hard to be that way.
It’s hard when I can’t explain how I felt about my day.

Frustration, anger, and annoyance are easy to read.
But happiness and sorrow are harder indeed.
Did I feel sad when the husband overdosed? Did I feel grief when the wife was murdered?
Did I feel wrong when the rose was lying in a hospital bed?
All I know is that there was something off when 2 were dead.

On the outside, I’m sure I was uninterested.
I am aware it’s odd, my expression and emotion seem to be separated.

I wish I could say what’s going on inside.
But how could I tell, when even from me it hides?

Relationships are complicated.
And friends are hard to keep.
Yet dreams are simple, and undemanding.
So maybe I should sleep.

I’m sorry I killed you.
I’m sorry you’re dead.
It was not my intention

I’m sorry I killed you.
I’m sorry you’re dead.
Am I really though?

           I’m sorry I killed you.
           I’m sorry you’re dead.
           It was my intention.