What has become of us love?
What has become of us?
The good night kisses
The playful teases
Have all faded away
Nothing but memories
Reflections of a lost bond

There's no color
In our beautiful painting
There's no odor
In our ring-sealed garden

The birds still sing,
But the air is rife
With the sound of gun shots,
Bombs, and grenades

Our battles are endless
And tear at the core
Of our hearts


Have we become monsters?
Feeding on hatred, revenge and desperation
Or vampires,
******* love's blood
At the cuts of our bleeding hearts
What has become of us love?
What has become of us?

I am an old soul
Trapped in a youthful body

I am of unsound mind
In a world built on sanity

My mind yearns for truth
In a society of lies

I long for shadows
In the exposed light

I search for love
In whirlpools of deception

I am a strong body
Stitched together with weakness

I find comfort
In unsettling rains

I seek sanctity
In the midst of danger

I am a failure
Hiding behind my successes

I am a bundle
Of courage and cowardice

I am an old soul
Trapped in a youthful soul

I am human
But I am not

I wish I could show you true beauty
to put a frame to what eyes behold.
I wish I could trace your outline
          touch your details
                    brush your shadows
Cutting stone to your remarkable mold.

I wish I could stop time with a pencil
to frame unintentional glory
to capture you, modest
          tranquil
                    serene
Making seconds outlast eternity.

I wish I could capture these moments
these pauses so precious to me
Instants of awe and breathless watching
painting to memory what I perceive.

So brief are these hallowed moments
and so erratically intermittent
that I find myself hoping
          lingering
                    longing
Forgetting­ the time in between them.

I wish I had the faculty
to contain your gilded beauty.
Instead, I watch, and cherish these moments,
For in them
          I love you
                    and you only.

A ******* the brink of breaking,
faking her way to the top of the pile of all the dead before her.
Drinking to escape it,
she fights her way through the words,
looking for a cure.

All the names they call her,
ugly, fat, ****, *****.
What doesn't **** her,
just breaks her down more.

All the people telling her,
"you're okay",
are the people that help break her down anyway.

Why should she listen?
Why should she give them the satisfaction?

The bruises on her skin,
the voices from within,
the cutting, scratching,
and tearing of her precious skin,
is causing her to bleed,
is causing her to feel just a little bit better.

But better never lasts forever.

The evil within her,
is starting to **** her,
she crumbling under the pressure.

The puzzle pieces don't fit,
I guess that this is it,
she crumbled under the pressure.

Nothing lasts forever.

A question for the sake of no answer.
A cry for the sake of a pause.
A prelude for the sake of the ending.
A death for the sake of a cause.

When will the people see reason
For enterprise other than income?
When enlightenment turns into treason
How will we manage to stop them?

Too great a task for the lone soul
Time is too solid to break
With darkness becoming the system
and too many changes to make.

When you must fight fire with fire
and shadows don't hide from the light
Besides assuming the darkness ourselves
How else are we able to fight?