You're a part of the culture.
A culture of oppression, and profiles.

You're lost because you know this,
and you're one of the exiles.

But you are wrong.
I tell you, yet you remain in denial.

Only you can save you,
from becoming a hopeless juvenile.

One has to stay true;
to ones own evidence:
or nothing is true.

Change;
things stop working:
all on their own.

Wake up! My friends
Dreamers are not the tortoise
Which don't know how to rise

Move on! My comrades
Dreamers are the flowing waves
That make thier own ways

I've got this current of emotion caught in high tide
It feels like I'm floating,
Lost in the ocean of my mind
but something below is lingering
I close my eyes as not to see
But it will not leave
Tickling the bottoms of my feet reminding me
This safety is not forever
How could I forget?
Wrapping around my ankles
I do not fight, only wait
Breathing this air
Questioning my fate
As I cling to you
like the last life jacket
And pretend to be immortal

Which is worse
Red tear streaks down your cheek
Crying but you do not know why
A black pearl in an ocean of light
Curled upon yourself
No one else can see your internal fight
Or white teeth between pink lips
Eyes that wink in your direction
They are open doors
Painted like wings to fly
Stretched out, ready to soar
Doomed to die

Sometimes, I grip my pen
So tight
My fingernails
Dig deep
Leaving behind cavernous indents
The remains of desperate claws
Marring the intricacies of my palm
A reminder to hold on
An indicator of what happens when
You let go

Sometimes, I write
So fast
With so much intensity
So much emotion
So much urgency
My pen
Catches and
Rips
Right through the page

But it's better.

It's better
To break through my paper with my pen
Than to slice through my skin with my blade

Everyday I have the choice
I make this choice
The pen
Or the blade

And today
I choose the pen

Because
One day
Someday
Out of all this
Ripping
Breaking
Slicing
Will come
Something

New