Life, pounded down into black and white, just ink
Ink on a paper
The whole essence if one’s being, the end of life, narrowed down to a few words, a sentence or two
Where is the appreciation of life
The sorrow in death
Isn’t life worth more then a fly’s, it’s short life? One day here the next gone, and we think nothing when it is gone.
And yet innocent people die and we are accustom to it
a child's eye's forever close, and we think nothing of their demise
Just another victim of the streets, death is just another accident or misfortune, just another fatal tangle between two cars
Just a hit and a miss when someone doesn’t make it
But isn’t life more, shouldn’t death be valued as a reminder that life can never be reborn
here's one i'm workin on...
a constant
pain, a leach feeding off my joy, draining me of peace, remaining to be dealt with and tolerated
let me feel something else, let me yearn for something else, let me seek something else
emotions, embody me like a tyrant soul, controlling the powerhouse of my mind, turning the switches, twisting the gears, that control my way of thinking
It taunts me, leads me down a dark path, i must resist it's temptful grasp
oh how i want to be redborn into hope
i want to let the pain go, but i still wear it's scars, then hang on me as a metal of defeat
it lays with me, plays with me
i battle it in the dark, challenge it in the light
it feeds on my tears, chews on. spits out, and resurfaces my fears, blinds my vision
i must believe there is more to this,
it clings to me, wanting to be apart of me
my sickness, my diease, my cure
my means to fight,
my reasons to aspire
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