Snow of white divides the black
of which I couldn't dare to sing,
A search for a holy night in a sight
that the coppers restlessly brings
I couldn't tame the holy light
that a new-sunshine finally brings,
This is what we fight for, not a tease
but the gentle of those little breezes.

Holy ghosts leave me to write,
as I can ration the written,
I can't keep this storm
since I was born,
This is not me
distinguished
Just me trying.
To be a better version.

Part One of Two

Dark thoughts are twisted
in the back of every child
black eyes we though civilized
is thrown into the wild.
Torn clothes thrown to the wind
protection glass cracks, failed sworn.

Sins are carefully placed
in the rubble of moss rocks
Silence is shattered by babies
stitched bloodily to the caves

The vile-ness as the bodies are piling
as the wicked keep on, twisted smiling
No worth can break out of the frost
And evil deeds grow the dead seas' moss

The new blocks the sun from smiling
All hope and desperation as they're trying
Darkness gives shape to cryptic eyes
The chaos versus the wisdom won't die

I get so lonely
though I live
with a family
of us three.
It doesn't stop
my rumblings
to myself
pretending
listening....
answering
Like speaking
to a sad tree.

I one wished
and hoped
upon the candles,
I loved it better
when they
were lit
upon my
innocent glow
before destroyed
of such eyes,
before they were
smokey dead
and snuffed out.

Close your eyes,
just sleep,
with your hair
tickling
my ears,
hand in mine,
relaxed,
beautifully
at rest,
Asleep
as I dream
in-depth
awoken
to your beauty.

Everyone in this room,
feels like a stranger,
and I'm this flower
that never bloomed.
Everyone I have liked
are now all faded
How the memories spike
with petals I haven't.

Money spins in the washing machine,
Its how the gangsters remain clean,
but no amount of washing
can get those red stains out.

Actions had consequences
Now the rich and famous
simply throw money at it,
So obvious with no doubts...