There’s so much pain and suffering in the world.

Who am I to ignore their cries?
The cries of desperation and yearning that go unheard
Into the foreign hours of the twilight zone
Become silenced

Hopelessness walks the streets
When most are sleeping
Restlessness is lurking and breathing life into the cold, dark air
The drunkards of the desolate bars
Passed out on park benches, broke and intoxicated

The clock strikes Twelve and time freezes
for a moment
Shadows of amorphous figures dance amidst the moonlight
Prancing through the city in their time
Racing down avenues and gliding between buildings

The lonely man taking a late night stroll becomes a wax-like statue in mid-stride,
His head hung low, hands in his pockets, and his shoulders hunched up around his neck
The trees, bare of leaves save for a few that haven’t fallen off yet in Winter’s attempt to come early
Stand tall in the pitch black, their silhouette merely outlined against the glow of Midnight

The clock strikes, motioning One o’Clock

All is silent

The suffering

The crying

The….

Life.
Time is all it is,
where us humans create
unnecessary events to fill our empty schedules.
To fathom a purpose out of electric currents running through our brains for us to do something for that one moment...
a singal time span; starting, and then ending as quickly as the thought came.
It's funny.
It's funny that we have to set goals,
so that we don't go crazy.
We need something to do.
Everyday,
And every second of the day,
we have to do something.
And while time is in play,
as it always is,
when will it stop?
As soon as I die?
No, but then if not then,
then when?
Because just like my life will end,
so will life in gerneral;
come to an end.
Everything has a time span of when
it will come to a stop.
It's only a matter of time.
And a question of:
when?

They never actually see me at my worst
and definitely not at my best.

Some people say
they don't like thunderstorms.
But I, for one,
love them.
Because when my thoughts
are persuading me
to do things
that will not only hurt me
but those around me--
the penetrating sounds of thunder
comfort me
when nobody else would.

I start
with one or two
just for the rush.
Pop another three
for the hell of it.
Sneak four more
to cloud my mind
as an excuse for
what
         I've
                done.
But justice as they say;
is swift.
And just like that
I'm gone.
My life taken
by the sweet,
powdered taste
of half inched sized pills
only conducted
because of the justice
my thoughts said the world
needed.

I watch my reflection in the mirror
with my pale blue eyes
watching my lifeless stature in the dark
bones made out of gelatin
and my heart out of fragile glass
that breaks everytime i see myself

My fingertops softly touch my face
Tears keep coming faster
till my waterlines are overflowing
My nails grow sharper
and my fingers cramp
digging holes under my eyes
I want to shatter my bones
And burn my skin to ashes
I want to rip the hair from my scalp
as well as all the pages
filled with frustration
scratching and screaming
I have to be pretty

but the need for it grows
as well as the demons inside my soul