My God is also my creator. I have life because he gave me life, He created me this thing! Specifically, with all creative attention, to me. So than he must love me, right? So when I "create" I feel closer to my Father .
Enter sandman. Fade to black, kill em all, saint of anger.
Anesthesia/Pulling teeth, Some kind of monster, one, unforgiven, ride the lighting, turn the page, (question) the thing that should not be. Invisible kid, got stuck where he hid. My lifestyle, determines my death style, master of puppets, justice for all. If i could have my waisted days back could i use them to get back on track.
Fuck it all no regrets. I hit the the lights on these dark sets".
This is called.
"Now now, voices!"
(says the man behind the pen)
"You stay quiet now, im tired of talking to you."
(whispers into echoes. The stories in the eyes of our youth, reveal our innocence has been betrayed. No one to trust, no one, truly can care the way we need.)
"Now, now voices!" (says the man behind the pen)
"Not tonight, I dont want to hear a single tale you tell. That Lie you weave, into a web of deceit. That is not my burden to bare, or defeat."
(Somtimes the true stories of the world, can be highly obscene. We get so caught up with the voices, in our own minds, and societies. We become deaf to the voices of those that "love" us. And to the strangers on the street. A stranger is onl...
Sober minded tears,
Sacrificed the years.
Dancing with deaths seduction.
What's left of happiness has already been deducted.
Bible scripture blues vs, Local scripted news.
All this noise corrupts the truth.
Glimmer the pictures of make believe,
Everyone has been deceived.
The sky is falling, gravity has left the scene. All that's left behind is the lonely man laughing in the rain, picking up the pieces of his shattered hope, and fractured mind. How many thoughts can one brain have, in a matter of time that doesn't keep track of the feet that led to this misery, with no company.
"The concerned are listening"
Apologies, And memories. You walked away! here to stay? only until pride got in the way. things, once said, To those whom it may concern. Let "those" and whom it concerns forgive the nameless, and unspoken prophets, of forgotten words. The quiet days were way too loud, with abandoned lust. All things fade when the wind scatters the dust. The concerned are forgiven, and to those who remember the burned.
Ashes, to ashes. Dust, to dust. Add a little water and all things can be reformed.
I want to write the truest heartfelt letter, conveying the deepest expression, of every emotion of my mind, and of my heart.
I sit here with pen, to paper. The seconds endlessly slipping into the void of broken hope, and misplaced dreams. (Dictionary sympathy, an exhaustive concordance of misery), worn on my sleeve, in the spot my heart once lied.
I want to love, as I hope to be loved in return. This time instead of me, looking, seeking, dreaming, and praying, for "true love". I'll be patient, silent, keeping my eyes aimed on my own path, And maybe along this journey through earth, love will find me. Until then I'll be sitting here coffee in hand, Bible on my right, dictionary to my left, Pe...
I, will write.
I will put together words, in no particular form, or fashion.
I will break the rules of stanza, and genre. I will captivate the mind, and wait for your body. I am not a poet, I Am the poem.
Sometimes "I miss you",
Is said too late.
Sometimes "I love you"
Is said in haste.
Sometimes "Good Bye"
Is said Too Late.
"I love you" she said.
"I'm IN! love with you" he said.
Sometimes "Good Bye", is inevitable. No matter what words come before.
Sometimes the "I miss you" never gets the chance to be understood, as "I love you" Sometimes "I love you" is simply Lust, confused
"I love you" She said.
"I'm in love" with you. He said.
"GOOD BYE". Came next