years spent numbing the pain
ignoring it's sting
covering it up
downplaying the hurt it causes

it will only lead
to you feeling

an aching numbness of existence
in self inflicted solitude

stand up for yourself

your unravelled self
is my favourite mess to sort through

so that way I may understand
what kind of fabric
you were made from

soft, like silk running through my fingers

warm, like woolen gloves made for winter

in the spun threads I uncover a story
and how you are clothed

in beauty untold

how does one write about love?

it is much too grand to picture
not yet grasped by any scripture
only a fool would try describe it

as it's everything and all
a climb and a fall
a thing impossible to portray, I say

no words would ever do it justice
but now I know what true love is

for I get to feel
your gentle
touch

I adore you

there's something that quite maddens me
I've always been a privileged one, you see

someone who gets to feel their muscles flex beneath their skin
outmatching the sun with a smile so bright and an always raised chin

earning the respect of my peers and all friends
the floods of praise and flattery knowing no ends

what a wonderful life, youthful and ardend
so how come that my fervent heart has so hardend?

because it's not a privilege, after all
so first was the rise, now here comes the fall

for these wings were made to soar, to fly
exploring the far beyond, above the blue sky

my body wants to feel the blood pumping
muscles tensing up while I'm jumping

the gold bronzen skin glistening in the lights
while I climb further and further, reaching new heights

this is what I crave, it is what I need
movement for my limbs and a mind that can feed

but how can I use my gifts and talents
if each and all are sacrificed for peasents

the ones that cannot do it, no skills of their own
relying on others for strength to loan

so tell me I'm gifted, tell me I'm blessed
because it's just not true, to that I attest

you can call me entitled, don't care if I am
but I want something else, to hell with this plan

so I shall slaughter these pigs, wade through their foul blood
no more will I obey, I will become god

so listen now, as the one who ascends
worship me for this is where it ends

thinking about it, I should've been more grateful
then again, too much praise

turned out to be fatal

cold fresh breeze
softly caresses my skin
as i inhale the dark of a summer night

sudden bright light
reflecting in my eyes
illuminating the clouds for just a heartbeat

the sky is pulsating with flashes
breathing with rumbles

but it's the moments in between
making me wonder
if this is what life is all about

waiting, observing the distance
hoping for a sudden change
something that can shake me to the bone

or is it anticipation?
looking forward to the next lighting
cherishing the short instances of clarity

ripping the sky apart
so violent but so comforting from afar
the wind picks up and brings raindrops with it

i'd like to think it's both
the moments of tranquility
the moments of disruption

to me, that is life

i've come to appreciate
those summer storms