Words

What can you do when words cannot describe the way you feel...? Yet what are words capable of in the face of such overwhelming odds? If only words could save you and i could be the one to speak them.
If my heart could write songs they would sound like the beginning of a new day. The sunrise tinged with just enough orange and light pink to warm the room. Nudging through the trees that seem to know something is close, as their gentle flowers begin the slow and rewarding blossoming of spring. You could go out and lie beneath that old and beautiful tree, the rays of sunlight drawing in the last of the morning dew from the vibrantly green grass that forms the bed you lie upon.
What use do words have? Filled with promises and hopes and desires. But empty. Spoken, with true meaning? With every inch of your heart behind them? How else do you convey the deepest and most intense feelings of affection, compassion, adoration and respect? If nothing, if you can give me nothing, give me only the ability to show how i truly feel.

Fair

What is expected of me? i am not god, i am a fifteen year old kid with a mountain of his own
inadequecy to deal with. Why have i been thrown up against things i cannot fight or control, let alone understand. This isn't fair, especially not on you. Why...

'n', h-a-t-e

Complaining about nothing makes that nothing so much more pathetic. No one actually fucking cares, it is time to grow up. If you are right about one thing, it is that you look like a child, who can't get what he wants. Isn't it fantastic when in a few short words you can destroy someone entirely? Who is it that speaks them, that knows what to say? The only person who knows who you really are, the only person who has seen you doing everything that you try to forget. Who knows what hides underneath your skin, poisoning the blood that runs so freely once they break the surface.

A kid I know, once believed in something that everyone else disregarded. And in this fairytale, he was wrong, and everyone else was right. He thought he was something more than what he had been told, and shut his eyes and blocked his ears when the whole world told him he was wrong. You would have to be nine kinds of fucked up to want anything to do with a kid who dreams for something he cannot have, that no one will ever want. He is nobody, nothing. Passionate about time wasting, lazy as fuck and so incredibly miserable, a conversation is a funeral. The only thing he has, or will ever have, is his twisted and torturous mind, a gift. Have you ever been torn down from the inside? Your skin shattered like glass as everything you kept a secret, a deep dark secret breaks out of you and not only reveals who you truly are, it also entirely eradicates the mask that you once wore. And as the mask lies in front of you, broken in two, you can see how revolting it really was.

You can smash mirrors, hide yourself from others, say nothing, and do nothing. But you can NEVER escape yourself, your own mind. Get used to it, and stop bloody whining about it.

Trap

What the fuck am i doing.
I know im headed straight for where i was two years ago,
Blades drugs and tears. Yet I'm carrying on?
Why am i doing this again?
In the pathetically fucking small hope that this time will be different?

Where?

When i look up to the clouds there is nothing i can see,
But I must know,
Is there someone staring back at me?

Walk With Me

What is it worth to know god when it does not make me happy?
It is like screaming when no one can hear you, it is all for yourself.

I can only pray that she acknowledges that I am different, that I am not them.
What is different but revolution, a struggle. Timeless, wasted.
I have so much to show you