Right down the street, there's a field of grass,
it's where I go to meet the future and the past.
Embraced by trees and kissed by the sky,
it's where some come to be free, or maybe just get high.
Or to just chain smoke, until your lungs turn black,
and when you start to choke your voice will only crack.
Oh, summer shines brightly, but my true love is the dark,
I visit the moon nightly and meet the stars in the park.

Well if you're looking for the path,
to lead you away from devastation,
it's just like solving simple math,
or just showing some appreciation.
No, there's no place like home,
but in truth, we are all alone.

Right down the street, there's a field of grass,
it's a secret oh so sweet, though no one thinks to ask.
The wind always whispers, and the lights bleed afterglow,
was she here or did I miss her? I guess I'll never know.
Aside from hunting footsteps, there's no one else passing by,
it's a question I should forget as the answer is a lie.
Oh, summer shines brightly, but my true love is the dark,
the depths that hold me tightly and kiss every scar and mark.

Well if you're looking for the answer,
or maybe just a solution,
to beat a disease like cancer,
or a problem like pollution.
Well, we're all free to roam,
but in truth, we are alone.

Right down the street, there's a field of grass,
it's where I'll go to greet my hope; it is my last.
The stars play my friend, the moon and all her charms,
but they say in the end we all die in our own arms.

Well if you're looking for a safe passage,
or maybe just an escape,
the concept; you can't grasp it,
it's blocked off by caution tape.
Oh, how it eats you down to the bone,
but in truth, we are all alone.

It's the black and white memories,
the one's that we all try to hide,
but the more that's blocked, the more you see,
and you can't erase what's inside.

She tells her story, and it's heartbreaking,
while you say sorry you're both shaking,
you tell yourself this is real, but you're really feeling numb,
that's how you always feel when you're at Don's Plum.

She tells her fears to quiet mirrors,
and expresses her sadness and stress.
Through all the tears she prays someone hears her,
because it's gotten to madness and she's become a mess.

In the booth you're all laughing, sharing the old jokes,
but the cigarette smoke is masking your instinct to choke.
You think you're made of steel, but you know you're just ****,
that's how you always feel when you're at Don's Plum.

Every song you hear is nostalgic,
and it brings a smile to your face,
within the whispers is a hint of magic,
but the topics are lacking charm and grace.
And every soul that wanders in, is worse when they're outside,
for everyone is born of sin, but we sure all seem satisfied.

She tells you her story, and it's heartbreaking,
it all came before me and the choices I'm making.
You've lost track of how to deal, you say the issues are dumb,
and that's how you always feel when you're at Don's Plum.

You, you've got me drunk off love,
you're all I ever think of,
your soul fits mine as a glove,
you're an angel from above.

You hold my heart, my hands; both the church and steeple,
now I finally understand why storms are named after people.

You are my only and my first,
you're the water to my thirst,
my heart feels bound to burst,
and to think I once believed myself cursed.

You hold my heart, my brain and my soul,
now I know you can be both empty and whole.

I'm full of heat, oh I feel the burn,
and my only feat is to yearn.
I was in the dark, always in a funk,
you've left your mark and now I'm love drunk.

I was lost until you found me there,
you stripped my walls right down bare,
you shine so bright that you have a glare,
I'm a drowning woman and you are my air.

You hold my heart, my life and my mind,
now I understand how love can make you blind.

I'm full of heat, oh I feel the burn,
and I've been beat so it's my time to learn,
I was down and my ship was sunk,
and when you're around I'm always love drunk.

My dear you are my favourite drug,
and I've done a few and drank to chug,
so come on love, I'll hold you close,
I'll put you in my veins and up my nose.

I once heard that suicide was painless,
especially if you use the steel that is stainless.
But when you go, you're bound to die nameless,
and everyone is helpless but no one is blameless.

I once heard you could determine your life with a game of MASH,
from who you would marry and if they'd have cash.
The future was written out but the ink gave me a rash,
and the destination was plotted to come to a crash.

Now through early morning fog I see,
every regret and every memory,
grasping a hopeful visionary,
that in this life we can be free.

I once heard that suicide was painless,
and with tragedy you can become famous,
but the outcome is always quite heinous,
and we all have pride but the release is shameless.

Now through early morning fog I see,
the line between truth and reality,
and with every wish and every plea,
I beg the world to just let it be.

Yes suicide is painless,
it's a route of living chainless,
but it only leaves destruction in it's wake.
Yes suicide is painless,
it's skies are always rainless,
but the rays of sunshine are extremely fake.

Yes suicide is painless,
It's outcome is very gainless,
the only thing that's gifted is heartbreak.

Every year I get older,
always marked by the same date,
but this year I'm feeling colder,
lacking heat even with my hate.

Every year I get older,
I'll be dead in years by this rate,
and there's so much weight on each shoulder,
have I just shown up to life too late?

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to,
we've got no social games, so what else would I do?
It's my party and I'll die if I want to,
"It's all downhill from here" oh god, was that true.

You know it's just my mannerism,
to have an annual aneurysm.
You know I was never one for optimism,
so here's my annual aneurysm.

Every year I get older,
that's just humans fault and fate,
and we all get bitter and bolder,
well, maybe that's up for debate.

You know it's just my mannerism,
to have an annual aneurysm.
I was never good at criticism,
so here's my annual aneurysm.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to,
tears change my eyes from green to blue.
It's my party and I'll die if I want to,
just 'cause I'm growing doesn't mean that I grew.

Many a times I find my mind is static just at best,
my lungs are damaged, and I'm empty in my chest.
The days are lagging, painfully dragging, the time is ticking slow,
then looking at the calendar, I wonder where did this month go?

Nothing to gain but buckets of rain,
and a ton of empty air,
and you could feign to feel some pain,
but the in the end, no one would care.

You're feeling right when you fight,
and you dabble in defense,
and last night you were playing scrabble
but every word lacked sense.
You coat your spleen in nicotine and claim to live just fine,
but you're getting thin, lacking every vitamin,
"you really should get more sunshine."

Nothing to gain but buckets of rain,
and some grass that could be more green,
and you could claim that you're still sane,
but no one knows what that word means.

Many of strangers bring on danger, but most will treat you well,
and with the heat coming from the street,
you'd think I'd be on my way to Hell.
The one you love most is now a ghost,
and you're overcome with dread,
and it's not a faze, we really do praise,
the ones that are now dead.

Nothing to gain but buckets of rain,
and some thoughts that were never there,
and you could feign to feel some pain,
but in the end, no one would care.

There's noises in the dark, they're keeping me on edge,
the scars have made their mark, a result from all I pledge.
I'm waiting for disaster, but it's always coming in a disguise,
I wish that time would go by faster, I'm counting days by the skies.

Oh, I know I went brain numb,
my wits were just going to waste.
Like a hand without a thumb,
like a tongue that cannot taste.

I'm seeing dreams while I'm awake, and it's making me lose sleep.
A soul can bend, but can it break? And can dry eyes still weep?
Sitting behind three locked doors and I still fail to feel safe,
I hear cracking above on the floors,
my skin is raw and my ears chafe.

Oh, I know I've become uptight,
my shoulders will never again slack.
Like two eyes without sight,
like a spine without a back.

"Just because you're paranoid,
doesn't mean they're not after you."
Everything around you has been destroyed,
but they tell you that isn't true.

Oh, I know I've lost control,
but it was already falling apart.
Like a life without a soul,
like a body without a heart.

Goodnight to all, it's time to die,
I'm going to join the stars in the sky,
you'll see me if you truly stare,
even when the skies are bare.
Just think of me, and I'll be there.

Bring me home and don't cry for me,
I was the weakest branch in the family tree,
and it's time for new life to grow,
you'll feel my arms in the wind's blow,
yes you must know, it's hard to go.

We did laugh, we did cry,
we gave each day our best try,
but as the moon relieves the sun,
everyone has their time come.

Farewell to the girl I love,
you made my life all I ever dreamed of,
and within you I found my home,
you made darkness gold and sadness chrome,
but now it's time for my soul to roam.

But we did love, we did live,
we gave eachother all we could give,
but as the moon relieves the sun,
death makes exceptions for no one.

Goodbye to all, return me to the earth,
to the planet that gave me birth,
you'll feel me in all of the seas,
you'll find me in every tree's leaves,
so you see for me; you need not grieve.

We did laugh, we did cry,
now it's time for my goodbye,
but as the moon relieves the sun,
it seems my time is finally done.

We did live and we did more,
but there's no chance for an encore,
'cause as the moon relieves the sun,
mortality's a battle never won.

Can I borrow a feeling?
I'll take whatever you can give.
I've had a real hard time dealing,
with the way that we're supposed to live.
Can I borrow a feeling?
It doesn't even have to be good,
I'd tie a rope to the ceiling
if I wasn't so sure I'd break the wood.

Can I borrow a feeling?
I'll be thankful for what you lend.
This world has stopped being appealing,
'cause while we stand, our knees tend to bend.
Can I borrow a feeling?
I can promise to put it to use,
and it's not in my nature for stealing,
I'll pay you back, this is no ruse.

I don't want to be a blank page,
displayed on centre stage.
I don't want to be a blank page,
I'm too young to feel this age.

Can I borrow a feeling?
I so badly wish to emote,
I've heard that it can be healing,
and free the hands from my throat.
Can I borrow a feeling?
I'm now really begging here,
and it's so **** revealing,
that my desperation is so clear.

I don't want to be a blank page,
displayed in my skeletal cage.
I don't want to be a blank page,
I'm too young to feel this age.

Can I borrow a feeling?
I'll be thankful for what you lend.
This life has truly sent me reeling,
and I finally feel at my wit's end.

When you play the game of life,
there's many things you have to choose.
But a lesson you must carry in strife,
is if you help other's win, then you're bound to lose.

I never know when I'm going to fall asleep,
and each dream I have is a nonsensical surprise.
I'm sure if I look hard the messages are deep,
but I never know what is true and what are lies.

When I'm awake I'm still always in bed,
each second I feel my soul drain more and more,
how strong does one have to be to defeat their head?
Or to not immediately drop down to the floor?

I'm cursed to be moved by many things,
and sometimes I'm not sure if I am real.
But still I rely on mood rings
to tell me how I should feel.

I like taking hot baths, so hot I can feel the burn,
'cause even when I'm feverish I can barely stand the cold.
My pink skin proves there's lessons some just choose not to learn,
and I'm not sure if it's foolishness or me trying to be bold.

Each season has it's emotion it brings,
and when they leave there's parts of me they steal.
But still I rely on mood rings
to tell me how I should feel.

I speak to the air that's around me,
pretending it's a ghost of the past.
Inbetween where dreams meet reality,
there's a depth that's so very vast.

I've always been one to fear change,
in a weird way I find comfort in the pain,
I'm not sure if that's common or deranged,
but the grass is always greener after some rain.

In stories both angels and demons have wings,
and both have someone to whom they kneel.
But still I rely on mood rings
to tell me how I should feel.

Sometimes when I skip rocks at the sea,
I'm surprised it doesn't throw them right back at me.
As when I was a much younger girl,
I always kicked out at the world,
but the world kicked back harder each time,
maybe just trying to keep me in line.

In life there's a set of lessons that we have to learn,
like passing your hand through a flame and seeing eventually that your skin will burn.
Or trusting the wrong person to keep your secrets and to guard your heart,
because more often than not, you'll have it ripped apart.

Maybe these thoughts hold no meaning,
but I've been dying just to get them out.
Since I was born I've been fiending,
to know what this whole life is about.

Every night I look for life in the skies,
but the only other world I've found is in my dog's eyes.
Her world is a place where love is given freely,
where ours is where our hearts leave unintentionally.

Maybe these thoughts hold no value,
but I've been dying just to give them air.
You would if you were plagued by them too,
I just want one night where my mind's bare.

Sometimes I envy those who don't hold their tongues,
I'm filling up with unspoken words and they're now filling up my lungs.
If I keep staying silent I will most likely drown,
but if I open up my mouth the water will rush on down.

Do you ever think we live in a picture painted by manipulative hands?
because from far away it looks perfect, but close up the colours have blended at the strands.
Maybe we're just hung on a wall with a glance from bored eyes,
and the only sounds in the gallery is a mix of yawns and sighs.

Maybe these thoughts hold no currency,
but I've been dying just to get them out.
Right now my mind's in a state of emergency,
I've been crying so hard that there's now a drought.

When I was young I was invincible,
a spirit of fire but feet like ice.
Now I continue to breathe cause I believe in principle,
but jumped in the darkness and never thought twice.

I'll take full responsibility,
I chose my path out of pleasure.
I'll follow until it kills me,
I'll take any given measure.

For the sins I'll bleed, I acted out of greed,
stole away from the poor and gave to those who didn't need any more.
For the sins I'll bleed, planted a poison seed,
I never thought differently, a disaster symphony.

My past self would be let down by the me of today,
presently I regret my past self in every way.
Now the girl who speaks in the mirror, I can barely hear her,
But I know I fear her and whatever she has to say.

I'll take full responsibility,
I chose my path out of pleasure.
I'll follow until it kills me,
I know it will lead me to treasure.

For the sins I'll bleed, I acted out of greed,
I dug myself into a hole just to only sell my soul.
For the sins I'll bleed, believed it to be a need,
I never thought differently, a disaster symphony.

Steal my thought, and hold my heart,
we both have fought since the very start.
Rob me of air and match my soul,
to be there I'd pay any toll.

Well the days just keep on passing,
the months, they have become years,
This love has become everlasting,
it was once my biggest fear.

Live at my side, and meet me in my dream,
the moon might hide, but the stars will gleam.
I'll speak true, but you'll read my mind,
just to see you, I'd go blind.

Well the days just keep on passing,
The months, they have become years,
there's not much that I am asking,
I just want to dry your tears.

From this day on, I'm always yours,
I already was, you know this, of course.
But from this day on, our souls are together,
just promise me, you'll remember forever.

Shape my world, and hold my hand,
I need a girl who will understand,
what I've been through, and will be mine,
'cause for you I'd wait my entire lifetime.

From this day on, I'm always yours,
I already was, you know this, of course.
But from this day on, our souls are together,
just promise me, you'll remember forever.

They say to keep your eyes open, but your mind closed,
leave your thoughts unspoken
and your body exposed.
We hold such value to anyone who holds a heart,
and when all is said and done we rip ourselves apart.

I've never been one to wake up in the morning,
I love living my life to look at the stars.
You experience complete peace without any kind of warning,
and if you look hard enough you can sometimes see Mars.

If you go back to the year 1944,
sixteen year olds were coming back from war,
and now in today in 2017,
an adolescent is a child and an adult a teen.

We're so far from our natural state,
our entire species is cursed with cancer.
When we were hunter-gatherers we were doing great,
But we thought preserved food was the better answer.

Most live their lives now in a camera,
forever looking for one more person's approval.
Trying to reach a standard of Marilyn or Pamela,
but a step forward would be technological removal.

Let's look back to around 1970,
when people were still struggling with equality,
And most likely by the year 2020,
we'll be oppressed and depressed by the plenty.

Good day inspiration,
I've been looking for you,
I've lost all motivation,
at a loss for what to do.
I used to be so self secure,
but now I've found a stranger in myself,
I'll never claim my soul was pure, but now it really needs some help.

Can you tell me how to feel?
I've seem to have forgotten,
I thought this all was real
but it's a subject I was never taught in.
I have two paths ahead of my feet,
an angel and devil on my shoulder.
I've always been a fan of extreme heat,
but it seems the world is just getting colder.

Good evening dedication,
you've been in my heart but out of mind,
now I'm in need of medication,
for the nirvana that I want to find.
I want to always be beside you,
I'm desperate for a sun in my sky.
I've voiced silence but every word true,
that I had left you was my only lie.

Can you show me how to live?
I don't think my heart holds a beat.
I don't have much left to give,
but I'll look for you on every street.
I have two paths ahead of my shoes,
an angel and a devil at my ear.
They plan to win the game I always lose,
they never miss their time of the year.

Goodnight my true love,
I've been waiting forever for you.
You are all that I've thought of, there hasn't been much else to do.
The light of the moon should show you to me,
and you can be led to me following the stars,
I'll be in the same place that I'll always be,
and we both know that's never too far.

I'm going to paint your image so beautiful and bright,
that one day everyone will know you're pure sunlight.
I'm going to paint your image so beautiful and bright,
that one day everyone will worship you with these words that I write.

Our connection coincides with the moon,
and I know that sounds completely insane.
But in one stage you're there to make me swoon,
and the next change to cause me pain.
When the moon decides she is full,
and can not grow another inch,
we both feel this undeniable pull,
yet from gentle hands we still flinch.

Our connection coincides with the moon,
and I know it sounds completely mad.
You show up just to leave me in ruin,
but it's not always all that bad.
The moon gives the sky some light,
and you feed my heart some lies,
but Darling the moon doesn't shine half as bright,
as your warm and beautiful eyes.

Our connection coincides with the moon,
and I sense you know it too.
Cause even though our words are always skewed,
deep down I'm bound to you.
When the moon decides it's time for her to leave,
and the sky turns solid black,
You follow her and I'm left to grieve,
but I know you'll always come back.

Invisible water is filling up a lung,
constantly drowning in an everyday world.
No words to every song that has ever been sung,
we are born and we die the same; body curled.
Trees grow but leafs fall, a barren way left to display,
Seas and breeze call, it's said that night is the one true love to day.

We try to be our best, but our best is rarely enough.
With the beat that's in our chest, we're fooled to think that we are tough.
Language was made to communicate, but we quarrel in pettiness.
Still we can all relate to an elegy of emptiness.

There's a dark room in every home,
and each closet holds atleast a single skeleton.
Our feet recognize the path we roam,
and you're not surprised that you fell again.
Puddles gather for us to splash, separating each drop from kin,
I know I'd rather just ask for the water to let me come in.

We try to be our best, but our best is rarely enough.
We all need to take a rest, our strength is now merely a bluff.
Distance is here for us to jump, but not many know readiness,
everyone has some sort of slump with an elegy of emptiness.

Lives travel on, and many paths become split,
and we all prattle on, only our feelings do we acquit.
Life doesn't stop for any one person, no matter the benefit.
But you listen to a different version, that much you have to admit.

We try to be our best, but our best is rarely enough.
Each day now is just a test, truth mixed in with the fluff.
Souls were made to connect, but most care only for prettiness,
not realizing the effect and then the elegy of emptiness.

"Will you always love me?"
The question is absolutely ridiculous; I have loved her a million lifetimes before, and I will love her for a million lifetimes after.
Our souls mesh and fit every inch of each other.
Our minds are forever connected, and our hearts are perfectly intertwined.

"Will you always be.."
"Mine?" I finish for her, like many sentences she speaks.
My answer is a smile, a true and genuine smile.
A smile that, before her, never had graced my lips before.
She possess every single speckle of my being,
my organs were utterly useless before I donated them to her.
Her hands fit in mine perfectly,
and my skin is electrified by simply brushing up beside her.

"I love her."
I tell my mother's headstone, when I catch up with the grass and trees in the graveyard.
Four years have flown by, and everyday I am still more in love than the last.
When we're good we're great, and when we're bad we're good.

"She's the one" the stars hear my thoughts,
a constant running track in the style of an infinity symbol;
every grain on it being a vision of only her.

"She is my world"
and I live for her, every. single. day.

Whenever I'm beside you, whenever I'm alone,
I want to just hide through, every emotion that I've shown.
The rain is pouring down now, and I'm losing my vision.
There's absolutely no sound, but I've heard it devours from within.

But this life, this is sinning.
It's never the end, always the beginning.

The darkness is so empty, and it swallows me whole,
I hope you don't forget me, I wish I fit your soul.
Please stop ripping at concrete, stop tearing at the thread,
I'm memorizing with my feet, a path already lead.

But this is life, this is sinning.
I've withstood this so long and my patience is thinning.

You walk along my dreams now, when I close my eyes you're there,
I've stopped asking the how, and I've accepted the where.
The what is desperation, and the when is all the time,
the who is my inspiration, but it stopped being mine.

But this is life, this is sinning.
You can't stop the world, it'll always be spinning.

For those who need to hear it.
Life is not easy. It's never easy, actually.

And when it rains, it truly does pour.

Sometimes you feel as if you are drowning,
or that you're surrounded by literal ****.

Then it rains, and it pours, and the **** is soaking wet.
But, it's up to you with what to do with that ****.

You can either step in it and complain in disgust...
or you can grab a shovel, a rake, maybe some seeds,
and maybe, just maybe,
you can it turn the **** into something beautiful.

Come lay your hands upon me,
dig your fingers to rip my skin apart.
Trace your lips softly and gently,
before biting down on my beating heart.

Wind is whispering my name,
calling me back to the depths of the dark.
I'll be there all the same,
looking to play the part and make my mark.
With all pain I've felt,
it's time to finally set the stage.
Live with the cards that are dealt,
start a new chapter and turn the page.

My life is loneliness at best,
even when surrounded by another soul,
and that feeling crushes my chest,
I forgot the price but I paid the toll.
You're here, and I'm there, when close there's still distance,
feeling fear, it's only fair, at least it is in this instance.

My skin, my skin is cold as ice.
I'll jump in, and make the same mistake twice.
It's a sin, but the sin feels so nice.
Who will clip our wings?

The dark and ***** street,
the one I used to see as home,
they still greet my feet,
but different paths I seem to roam.
With all the pain I've seen,
it's time to now roll the credits.
But I ignored the picture on the screen,
or maybe I just wanted to forget it.

Your lips, your lips are paradise,
I'll jump in, and make the same mistake twice.
It's a sin, but I've never claimed to be Christ.
Who will clip our wings?

You glance upon my skin, to see that it's covered in holes,
and compare them sweetly to only freckles and moles.
But what no one understands is they tunnel straight down to my soul,
and no one realizes the worth of gold in a world of coal.

They found the shattered remains of my head and brain,
scattered around my bed in crystals and in grains,
shining red and white like broken candy canes,
Marked it down as evidence, A to Zed and back again.

Bring me back to breathing, today or tomorrow,
twenty hours of dreaming, nightmares of only sorrow.
Inevitable fall from grace, blood splattered on my face,
but a smile still shining when I turn down second place.

Rip out my changing eyes, I choose to go blind.
So many restless sighs, in this white noise mind.
Rip out my babbling tongue, the messages you will not find,
too many songs unsung, in this white noise mind.

You make the signs and I'll take direction,
keep feeding lines, it only increases infection.
I find my teeth to grind, biting down on affection,
that you tangle and bind, leave it in an unmarked section.

Take my burning ears, they listen far too kind.
So many haunting fears, in this white noise mind.
Take my shaking hands, they're locked and intertwined.
Nothing to understand, in this white noise mind.

I only see bright red stop lights,
they line my way, they trace my nights,
they always stay, don't leave my sight.

So take my silent heart, rib cage is too confined.
Rip all organs apart, leave behind a white noise mind.

There's so much I feel but never actually say,
it paints an image too real, one I don't wish to give away.
Now it's raining, there's no sustaining,
I'm cold and soaking wet,
and all's waning, the thread's straining,
you know how worn-in sweaters get.

I'm looking for you on the crowded streets,
that are all full with the car's blinding lights,
and the wandering souls that aren't complete,
well, they just pass right through my sight.
The voices all turn to a slur, each word seeped in pure dread,
and my sight begins to blur, I need to get this all out of my head.

When the tears are fresher than air, and the hurt is always there,
I know there's a happy place, I just have no clue where.
When the words hit like a shot, the wounds won when I fought,
I'm giving it all but there's not much that I've got.

I'm searching for peace in an empty room,
the walls echo and bounce back my ragged breath,
and the blue skies still seem to hold some gloom,
as life will always have it's death.
"It's the release I crave," I always say to myself,
now it's time to be brave, and put fear on the shelf.

When the tears are fresher than air, and the hurt is always bare,
I've got a million problems, if you need some I can share.
When the words hit like a shot, the wounds bubble from the spot,
I'm going against everything that I was taught.

If she stays by me, I should be alright.
The sky's ablaze I see, and it shines so bright.
If she stays by me, I should be alright.
With the days passing, I always pray for night.

When the tears are fresher than air, and the hurt becomes a prayer,
My mother always told me that life is never fair.

The blizzards of snow, falling straight to the ground,
circle in the wind and block out the sound,
burning my skin and freezing my soul,
yes the winter has taken it's toll.

The dead trees that shed their leaves, I only see a reflection of me,
but no one thinks to dress me up with light.
While the nights are going strong, the drunkards belt out their yuletide songs,
the added up years have turned the phrases trite.

And all those lost souls were tracing angels of the snow,
Using chalk though the white blended in too well.
Seeing the indent and questioning how far it did go,
If this unknowing snow angel had made it's way to Hell.

I inform you if you knew Emily before,
she is now gone, she is now dead.
We found her lifeless body on the dusty floor;
ink injected in veins and mouth choking on lead.
All that was left was coloured poems,
the pages only lacking a shade of grey.
The same messages repeated and cloned,
and written out in several different ways.

Keep walking on, until your legs are strong,
I'm waiting for the sunrise, but it won't be too long.

The ghosts that are draped in paper,
float along; room to room, heart to dreams.
Taking a longer route, because it's safer,
but more hazardous, than it seems.

Keep walking on, until your legs are strong,
As long as you are living, you're not doing wrong.

The lights that flash in our eyes,
keeping time; second to minute, minute to hour.
Living as a cloud in the skies,
blocking sunshine, taking life from the flower.

Keep walking on, until your legs are strong,
go a little further, you're almost furlong.

The pillows that trap our visions,
soften blows, keeps our secrets, absorbs the tears.
Wrapped up in the sheets, and all decisions,
of the next coming years.

Keep walking on, until your legs are strong,
live for everyday and love the world's song.
Keep walking on, until you belong.

The first time I walked into my home was when I was five,
My mom and her best friend Louise signed me out of school,
we ate McDonalds on the hardwood floors and looked at the bare walls,
they were actually blank canvas's, waiting for life's pictures to be painted upon them.

When I was eight, my sister and I got into a fistfight,
in our shared room, a mere five feet away from my parents.
They knew it was time for us to have separate rooms,
and they turned an old den into a makeshift room that night,
where my sister would sleep until her teens.

I remember Sunday mornings,
stumbling down the stairs with sleep in my eyes,
and hearing oldies playing on our stereo,
smelling a big breakfast cooking.

I remember Monday mornings,
procrastinating to come downstairs and face the Canadian winter weather,
my mother getting ready for work,
but not before making us toast even though we never had an appetite in the morning.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

I spent countless days and nights in my first room,
always an introvert, always alone with my imagination.
It went from playing with Star Wars action figures,
to playing guitar, to writing poetry,
and eventually when computers were the big thing,
I spent my teen years playing xbox and downloading music.

Some nights I drank in that room.
Most nights I smoked countless joints and cigarettes.
A few times I even did mushrooms,
paranoid the entire time my mother would open the door and question me,
but usually she was more concerned about the candles I lit to cover the smoke,
100% certain I would light the house aflame.

My sister eventually moved into the basement,
the same one where we would sit on the rough carpets,
far too close to the TV,
playing Legend of Zelda, and Greenday's "******" blaring in my ears.
I'm still half deaf till this day.

I remember falling asleep outside,
rocking back and forth on our cushioned swing,
surrounded by greenery and sun,
bird chirps intermixing with my mp3 player.

I remember my modest above ground pool,
and my sister teaching me how to swim at six,
only taking breaks when she would attempt to drown me.

My sister moved on and I moved into the basement,
and spent an entire weekend painting and making it my home.
Bright green paint with lilac purple,
and posters of Sid Vicious, illuminated by lightsabers.

My mom got sick with Cancer,
and I remember sitting in the living room while she cried,
telling myself she would be ok,
that she would live even against impossible odds.

I remember coming home from overnight shifts at the women's shelter,
lying on the shaggy carpet and watching her with half lidded eyes.
"I'll go to bed soon."

A week before Christmas my mother moved into the old den,
the one my sister moved into when we were so young,
so she'd no longer need to go up the stairs.
The same stairs we used to slide down on with pillows.

I would lay awake in my basement, listening to her footsteps,
the same footsteps that used to wake me up far too early.
Now keeping me awake and on edge,
ready to run up to her in case she needed help.

I remember Christmas morning,
how the walls echoed "she's gone" and "call the doctor."
How my father sat at the living room table, pouring himself drink after drink,
how my sister lay on the couch crying,
and I, trying to make my mother proud, cleaned the house.

I was alone for years,
in a house that wasn't a home,
my mother dead, my sister moved out,
my father taking anything of value to his new home, with his new girlfriend,
a woman who shares the same name with my mother.
But not the same heart.

I stayed in my basement,
getting high and writing poetry,
listening to music so there would be another voice but mine.

The first time my wife walked into my home,
she surveyed the damage done to the house and made it a home again.
A nice mixture of our belongings now mix with my mothers,
keeping her memory alive in every room.

We spent many nights in candlelight, inlove, laughing,
and again the house had life and love in it.

This summer my home will be sold,
and in a matter of months this little 50's house will be destroyed.
Our medium sized lot will make room for two modern buildings,
and the twenty-three years spent here will be demolished.

There is mold in the basement,
the electrical is gone to ****.
The drywall is crumbling, the paint is scratched,
and the plumbing is sketchy at best,
but this home will always stand strong in my heart.

I keep my hands busy and my tongue tied,
my head dizzy and hide what's inside.
I roll my eyes back, always bite my lip,
and the room's black, I'm always bound to trip.

I break hearts like I break bread; rarely,
and make promises but just barely.
Sweet words never seem to hit my head,
I know it's absurd but I only hear what's left unsaid.

I loved her, I love her,
she leaves me alone just to watch me suffer.
I made a bet but I've never been a bluffer,
I'm going to lose if I don't get tougher.

I like when band-aids rip off clean and leave no traces of blood,
it's the best relief ever seen, save for the daily drenching flood.
We rip off that plastic sheet and search for forgotten pieces of skin,
that could never make us complete but still covered what was hidden within.

The stars light up the sky,
telling the story of you and I.
I feel like I'm about to die,
but my death rattle is just a sigh.
The rain is my best friend,
or at least that's what I like to pretend.
I feel like it's almost the end,
but it's come full circle after the last bend.

I've given myself up, wrapped and chained,
accepting the cards and the blows.
Fought forward, but peacefully restrained,
as simple and calm as resistance goes.
Why is there a loss in a life with no games?
I'll allow you to believe you hold an Ace,
while clutching a jester of your same,
narcissistic grin matches the one on your face.

I had a John Cusack about me,
where I was forever misunderstood
and what no one could ever see,
was my intentions were always good.
I spoke into a tape recorder as if it was my only friend,
"I gave my whole heart to her, and she gave me a ******* pen."

She covers me like frost when it sets in fresh,
I've been barely breathing since the day she almost left.
I've been at a stand still in quicksand; sinking fast,
I wish I could take a pill to let go of the past.

The blame game, has got it's newest saint,
forever in denial of all mistakes.
The blame game, always takes on my name,
forever in debt for all heartbreaks.

My visible breath spills secrets of another life,
a person you've never met but call your wife.
Brokenhearted and destined to be a knotch on a long, long belt,
Dearly departed with distance and it's the closest you've ever felt.

The blame game, has gained it's newest saint,
forever forgetting the dealt pain.
The blame game, takes on none the same,
forever drowning in the falling rain.

She paints me solid in the blackest of tar,
I fell for all of it but fell down too far.
There is something left but just too small to ever grasp,
I won't be the one to confess, with my dying rasp.

I wish to love you like no one in this world has,
I'll give you the sun, the moon,
the trees, the leafs,
and the greenest grass.

Tonight, is just a normal night,
living in fright, fighting for my life.
Tonight, yes, and the stars are shining bright,
caressing the moon but cutting like a knife.
And the demons passed by my door, colours of black and red,
crawling on the floor and ripping up my bed,
whispering sweet nothings of silence through my ear to my head,
calling out for violence, replacing love with bloodshed,
telling me I don't need breath but poison instead.

Tonight, tonight, keep on your light,
Darling you're the only pretty thing in sight,
and you say I'm accomplished, but we know only in plight.
So. Where. Should. I. Go?
Just know, without you, the wind will never again blow.
Just know, without you, the stars will never glow.
Not tonight.

"No," said you to I, while I was cursing at the sky,
energy running low, but emotion flying high.
"Don't go" said I to you, watching colours change hue,
black and red to blue.
That's what love will do.

Ask lone questions that were made for a King,
one who was born mute, blind and deaf.
He'll express the most breathtaking things,
only coming from this final breath.

The Canal is frozen solid,
near by my car tempts fate with races.
In my last goodbye each "I" is dotted,
with broken hearts and sad faces.
It reads; "I'm never going to leave you,
my ghost can float along in your life.
While each moving noise will deceive you,
and I'll be bound to you as if your wife."

So you tore me up like an old receipt,
just another object you don't wish to keep,
but you can't return as I did not sell,
I should've seen down payment before I fell.
Do I even know you? I'd like to believe I once did,
A conclusion I drew, and from the beauty you hid.
It's more painful for me to ask,  than for you to have to hear,
I guess you switch up your new mask, at the start of each new year.

I feel so hollow inside my torn up chest,
to the point where I'm not sure which side my heart does rest.
Left or right, I just can't decide,
and it calls out silently, but the beats seem to hide.
For I still grasp at my clothes, I wish to forcefully pull each thread,
as the inner turmoil impose, on my already swollen head.
That is now flooding this page, an explanation to your fully aware mind,
I'm just past that blissful stage, that we could never really find.

In that moment it had occurred to me that for my entire life I had been breathing in a toxic, poisonous gas.

One that had been draining my life and destroying my soul.

The first word she spoke, the first smile that I witnessed grace her lips; that was fresh air.

She was oxygen.

I may not have much. I may not be worth anything of value.

But she owns every ounce of my soul.
Every thought in my head.
She owns my entire heart,
and hopefully, every second of my future.

In this rule book I carry till the day I die,
first lesson is; you have to learn to lie,
and cover those wounds with a wistful sigh,
'cause penguins wouldn't be loved the same if they could fly.

Her name is Mercy and she says it like a joke,
she shows up when you're thirsty just to watch you choke.
Yes, her name is Mercy and she seems almost like a star,
but she just wants to hurt me, she just lives to be a scar.

Her name is Mercy and she claims to be a saint,
she pushes just to see if you'll ever voice complaint.
Yes, her name is Mercy and it's the most beautiful sound,
and what she claims to be is never truly found.

Her name is Mercy and she's stunning in your eyes,
but you always know the worst will be what she claims is a surprise.
Yes, her name is Mercy and she lights up your life,
her eyes are flirty, but her words are a knife.

I was trying to show that I'm not like rest,
but I think I only succeeded in boring you to death,
As I can see the lint from you picking at your pockets,
And the burn marks on the same fingertips from sticking them in sockets.

The world, don't you see it?
You should glance, as it's bound to end.
Don't stand, you really should sit,
it's the only way your knees turn to bend.
High aggression with loose remorse,
who starts a riot in such a heavenly place?
In a doctor's office, walks in a horse,
and the physician only says "why the long face?"

Take me to the graveyard,
and lie me on the ground.
I'm playing the "one day..." card,
as it's the only one I've found.
Maybe this translucent simplicity,
has made everyone so sick of me.
But I don't talk back, for I've silenced my lips.
So dry they bleed and crack, but so wet my thoughts still slip.

Everyone keeps their movement going,
they don't lose step with the rising flame.
Their masks are slipping to start showing,
underneath they are dull and tame.
The problems line up to play "Red Rover,"
I'm feeling weak, I know I'm going to lose.
But I never hear them yell "come on over,"
which is a relief as I'm too tired to tie my shoes.

Take me to the graveyard,
and lie me on the ground.
Just leave me and disregard,
my final word's dying sound.
Maybe this translucent simplicity,
has forced the world to finally see,
what no one will admit, the drying paper on the line.
Accusations that don't acquit, just blank navigational signs.

"To be Continued..."
It always sounds so great,
but the original was skewed,
so the sequel relies on fate.

Take me to the graveyard,
and lie my body on the ground.
Walking away won't be hard,
my corpse turns to dust, pound by pound.

How many people have to die for your "personal growth?"
For your "well being," or your "revelation?"
You accepted the burdens when you swore your oath;
the pledge, the vow, of your own creation.
A beautiful tornado that wipes the ground clean,
destroys all stable structures in it's path.
A breathtaking painting depicting a deadly scene,
this is unrequited dedication's true wrath.

Back and forth, side to side,
this is a gorgeous question mark.
South and North, turning tide,
this is the light that leads to the dark.

How many people have to die for your "personal growth?"
For your "Eureka!" For your "I got it!"
A question and an answer; you are missing both,
the obvious is present, but you've always fought it.
A gentle hurricane that cracks the Earth,
that shakes wildly and tears the skin.
A stock that's crashing with impeccable worth,
this is unrequited dedication's identical twin.

Back and forth, up and down,
this is a gorgeous question mark.
South and North, sky and ground,
this is the light that leads to the dark.

So this is what it's all about,
"ego," and "control?"
Constant rain, but daily drought,
falling while on a roll.
Pockets are closely holding your hands,
but the strangling does succeed.
Lungs of water, body buried in sand,
it absorbs all my heart does bleed.
I'm one more body to the pile that's left,
no one shakes their head or ever looks behind.
Thoughtlessly giving and innocent theft,
this is unrequited dedication's version of kind.

Here we all fly separate, under a sky of blue,
I would say goodbye but I'll cave to "toodle-*******-oo."

The sunrise greets the morning dew,
to paint the sky with a vibrant hue.
The last night has passed and a new days has come,
advertised perfectly by a morning’s sun.
Alarm clock birds hold no button to “snooze,”
nothing left from yesterday, so now nothing left to lose.
Go hesitantly wipe the sleep from your eyes,
and politely greet the oncoming sunrise.

The blissful sunset that once held the night,
sped off within our starry eyes so fast.
The brilliant, blinding, shining light,
tragically drifted off, lost in the past.
It separates the long days from the glorious dreams,
and divides them into hostile, opposing teams.
A sunrise and it’s rays can always carry hope,
that maybe one day it’s possible to move on.
Either surprise fairy tale, or tasteless joke,
maybe my sense of humour is just somewhat wrong.

So remember to always bless a sunrise,
but never, ever more than a sunset.
Both light up the passing, fading skies,
that cover our shaking regret.
At night, we all strive only to peacefully sleep,
to **** the hours before the sun makes horizon’s leap.

Empathy is just not meant to be, it needs to fall of the track,
and so do I, as empathetic is me, so much strength that I lack.
Soft and secure, I will never make it out alive,
warm and protective; time wasted to revive,
no one will save me, no one will even try,
and that's why I drift in the pitch black sky.

Make up your mind, 'cause I really hate the bounce,
and to everyone I'm blind but I see what really counts;
if no one can get to me, I'm sure to finally breathe,
as everyone is set to flee and I just watch them leave.
Regrets and memory.

Who the Hell said you were the boss?
I counted every win but was outweighed by loss.
Basing my whole life on a god ****** coin toss.
Fell down to the grass and buried by moss.
Heart stopped suddenly, I never saw my wound bleed,
but it was all it took and it was all it would need.
Regrets and memory.