A broken heart is–

a poet's greatest treasure.

The man on the moon, you see
He has a few friends

He's perfect and broken
And is kind to no ends

I believe he is lonely
Floating gently in the sky

Even if you whisper him your secrets
He'll never tell you why

His pain is unmatched
Yet he's beautiful all the same

Even when he looks at perfect stars
He casts them no blame

And I find it comforting
Looking to him at night

For he taught me even in dark
There is a way to find some light

underneeth my skin
A devil plays within
lights my head to blazes
as the fire rasies

A call I hear
as It draws near
a angel amoung the fire
as something begins to transpire

The angel said his name
as I drown in pain
but the angel made feel it
the feeling of being a bottomless pit

but I kept marching ahead
soon I felt mislead
but the name pushed me through
and soon I felt good as new

and the name that helped me coup
was named HOPE

The sound of silence
is like feeling the wind but not seeing it
The sound of silence
is like a bell that moves but does not chime
The sound of silence
is like crying without sound...