Serving for the light.
Dying in the night.

Someone, somewhere out there thinks you’re beautiful—
Maybe.

Idk how ugly you are.

There once was a man
Who lived a long long time ago
He went by the name of Jesus
Sadly He committed horrendous crimes
He healed the sick
Caused the blind to see
Walked on the water
And dispelled any form of iniquity
And for ALL the above He received the death penalty
Today there are those who steal, ****** and ****
Their sentence ...
You shall go to a place we call prison and reside there for free
There you shall receive three meals a day ... On time
You shall have a roof over your head and a warm bed to sleep in
You shall stay there for a period of time
While you're there you can watch TV and have full use of the gym
Once your stay has expired
You shall be released back into society
Where you most-likely will commit the same offence
But not to worry
You will always have a place to call home
Where the cycle shall repeat itself
And as for the rest of society
Who cares about the people who were affected by your heinous crimes
As long as you weren't injured while committing them
Sleep peacefully

When you left
there were no words
or meaning

Just endless piles of dictionaries.

When I was a frightened child, I met an anthill inside my yard
That could have never given part of my life trouble
I still found it somehow simple to dismantle
After all, from above the only thing that I could clearly see
Was a mound of dirt by something that had nothing to do with me
I cared little for the parts inside
For all of the work behind the scenes
All the toil those little creators had to do
To make something that could be destroyed by a self-centered fool

there's a certain
irony
for being unable to
put the love
for words
into a form of
ink and language

It’s on the tip of my tongue,
I know it I swear, the words aren’t missing,
they’re just not there, on the tip of my tongue,
I believe I know where,
I'll find them in the dark skies or in my blank stare.
Please send up a light or some kind of flare,
end this cycle of searching,
searching for what is rare.

Words that I’ll be searching for for a while,
Surprised that I’m locked in, like juvenile,

I’ll be Stuck in a constant rewind,
until we've left this topic behind.
Then I'll remember and say remember that time,

Eventually, Ill be able to speak effortlessly again
of course it'll happen after this conversation ends.

pointless circles