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Ghosts and SkeletonsThey do not let go,
the demons of the past.
They whisper tells of woe,
never knowing that the events have already passed.
With cold hands of solid bone and swirling mist,
they hang on to the mind
as they try to reach the heart.
Aiming to break that fragile piece of muscle with only a hard twist,
they are unkind,
refusing to let you restart.
Their rattling bodies and raspy voices can push you ahead,
telling you to keep moving
and not make the same mistakes.
But that is only if you are not dead
and are forcing yourself to keep improving
and not lingering in the past for so long that your will breaks.
But very little people have learned how to control them,
instead letting regrets and ‘what-if’s become chains.
The ‘could have been’s become blacken gems,
sharpened to cut deeply into every vein until nothing but a bloody mess remains.
There is no escape from them.
There are only two routes you can take,
but how you may go about them is up to you.
Thank You for Being HereThanks for being here,
standing next to me as my best fellow musketeers.
I’m not easy to be with,
my insecurities and flaws,
making the idea that I’m perfect a myth,
the thought that I have any solid personal laws
Together, we dance our own waltz,
craving out our place in life.
You guys aren’t perfect either,
your sanity changing with every movement of a knife.
I’m your breather,
Our versions of insanity
collides and molds us,
bringing us closer together,
leaving us in pure bless
and not in the cold weather.
Our ghosts and monsters are trying to lock us inside.
I would have died,
if I was the same person before I met you two.
You have pushed my skeletons from taking over me,
keeping me true
and most certainly free.
I am alive because of your love.
You two don’t have wings of a dove.
The leather devil wings
contrasting to the angel wings you say I have.
You made me richer than past kings,
the love we share not being halved.
You made me b
Love verse InfatuationLove is friendship,
whose bond has grown
to being able to know that you aren’t ever alone.
Love is trust,
built over time to last
even when the god of time’s reign finally pasts.
Love is slow,
safe in a pocket of time,
all its own.
Love is meaningful,
the little things that are truly peaceful.
Love is deep,
faithful whispers to one another,
hearts forever bound to each other.
But love is often mislabeled,
passed off as something that is quite disabled.
The hot pain that leads some to temptation,
which is now called infatuation.
Infatuation is desire,
whose bond is missing,
lost in fantasy wishing.
Infatuation is suspicion,
green eyes jealousy
whispering tales of a possible enemy.
Infatuation is fast,
hot passions and skin to skin contact that never last.
Infatuation is meaningless,
only cold sheets and a growing black hole.
Infatuation is shallow,
only so deep as cheap cotton sheets.
Now tread carefully,
as you go through life,
often in the foggy cover of
No OneYou laugh,
and no one knows you’re dead inside.
and no one knows what happens when they turn around.
and no one knows that this is a game that you are forced to play.
and no one knows the secrets that you hold.
and no one knows that you bleed.
Under ConstructionI know I'm not perfect;
there's no need to point that out.
I know my flaws and mistakes,
my shortcomings and downfalls.
But I'm not done yet.
I working on myself,
trying to make myself better than I was yesterday or last week or last year.
Hammering out the dents,
buffing out the scratches,
replacing broken or outdated parts,
adding new pieces.
I'm a work in progress,
barely a rough draft.
somewhere in the far future,
I will be done.
All the lines cleaned,
the inking neat,
the colors working together.
Someday I will be complete.
Or maybe I will never stopped being worked on,
even when I'm lying in coffin,
my hands folded across my breast,
or my body is burned to ash and poured into a clay jar.
People shall talk about me,
my failures and successes.
People will remember me,
thinking about the moments we spent together.
Titles will be added and taken,
I will be a topic for argument.
This is all ok because it will help create a picture of who I am,
from both my eyes and the eyes o
Aren't We Ugly?Aren't we humans an ugly race?
Killing each other as if we are mad dogs,
not even children,
who are no more than ten,
They swirl together to create the monsters that we are.
There are no monsters under the bed,
there are no nightmares;
there is only humans.
There is only us.
Aren't we ugly?
The angels are running,
the demons are hiding.
The Devil is screaming,
every last one of them,
The other life that is somewhere out in space
is telling us to stay on our planet.
They do not want our sins and ugliness to destroy them.
They are asking us,
'aren't you an ugly species?'
Parents are crying,
asking God why.
A nation is mourning.
A world is burning.
Aren't we ugly?
There is no fated "end of the world".
The end of the world will come day,
but not by some unseen hands.
The day that the Earth dies will be done by our own blood soaked hands.
aren't we ugly?
LostI became lost,
mixed in a unfamiliar crowd.
I was confused,
I was quiet.
I didn't know what to do.
Maybe this was my body's way of reacting,
without any tears,
that today is the first holiday without them.
The first holiday that was supposed to be about family,
but without a complete deck of cards with familiar smiling faces.
Others were reacting too,
just in way different from my.
My father was quiet,
My aunt was smiling
with a lens made of unshed tears.
No one else who was family knew.
They didn't know.
Or maybe they did,
but wasn't thinking about the past,
only thinking about the future.
I don't know.
I only know my own confusion,
and my guesses to what two people in my family were feeling
as we walked in shades of gray with shadows of others around us.
Demons and The Devil Cry Too, You KnowDemons,
even the Devil,
That might seem strange,
and I'm sure some will protest to this.
How could those evil creatures,
those monsters whose home is Hell,
They feel only anger and hate,
they only know death.
This is where I put a halt in their questions and statements.
This is where I ask them this-
humans feel anger and hate,
angels can feel anger and hate.
So why shouldn't those who live the darkness be able to cry?
The Devil was cast out of his home,
stripped of his glory and pride,
left to rule in a world of both fire and ice.
Demons are subject to disgust and distaste from those who are supposedly good.
Yet, the souls of those who are "good",
those who are just mere specks of grain of sand on the Earth,
are coming more and more down to Hell.
The demons are crying for the hypocrisy of it all,
the Devil is crying for unfair treatment that he received
even though he was right about humans.
They cry because they want love,
the warmth that th
Being a Best Friend, a Sister, and the FutureIt's kinda funny when I stop to think about our relationship.
I have siblings of my own,
but I don't get along with them half as well as I get along with you.
I wouldn't say it's because we not related-
that seems like a lame excuse-
but I like to think I complete you,
just as much as you complete me.
You are wild and free,
with being every way the good kind of crazy.
You are loud and maybe a bit impulsive,
but you always worry about me.
You smile and laugh,
with no barriers to hold you back,
with no care about you is watching you.
Sassy comebacks roll off your tongue,
as someone thinks that they can knock you off the throne you have made.
I am calm and reserved,
rather burying my head into a book.
I am quiet and makes decisions based on facts,
but can sometimes seem a bit weird or nerdy.
I smile and laugh softly,
feeling awkward in a crowd,
wishing to somewhere else with a pad of paper and a pencil in my hands.
Innocent remarks escape my lips,
as someone boast about something that pip
One tear... dearly spent. (Act-I)
I see their faces, they, the unloved ones, dry eyes, no smiles, just a stark and desperate gaze, bereaved of care, hope, love.
Each little face gazing bleakly on through the fractured glass of a picture frame, but not at me...
I lay it down, gently. For I'll find no comfort in it, only remnant shards of a forgotten memory, one soon to pass with me long into the halls of eternity.
This the equal sum of all my years. One just memory, fare earned, bought at a fair price, one of ill deeds and a blackened soul.
I feel pain, for myself, for this world, for the last time. Also fear, so real to me now, that he, this dark loathsome one, would leave me behind.
Unwanted as unworthy, to remain here, a fool in purgatory.
The cold now grips me as if embraced by it, just as a mother would an inconsolable child.
I look into the deepest dark, and ask him. "What is Hell like?" He took no notice, and ask me for the time.
But his question went unanswered, for the
PetrichorI walk without an errand for the mind.
I must be homeless.
Neighboring enclaves separate our spaces,
belie their builders’ mirthless exhaustion.
Not even necessity can be blamed
for these mud-struck, brittle gourds,
these quick nests of vasculous organs
pulsing with their peculiar tyrannies,
briefly scuttling from their hovels
like sun refugees
darting into gleaming storefronts
waffled in concrete misery
all to forestall the end of their souls.
Where can we go when we only want to breathe?
Sitting in a park bench,
trillion-visioned, crowned with galaxies,
I can rest my weary invention.
I sense the weight of an unseen player,
a secret stratagem
as she moves her piece into the glade.
I’m set in place, yet unopposed.
Uncombined with lovers, children,
the slow parade of trees and heat,
I lay beside these stalwarts,
at once, still and hurtling
throughout the travesty of time.
I assemble a cumulus intelligence
near the playground,
threatening Summer with three days
EnchantedA golden apple tang
Heralds summer's brightest fire
But I prefer to amble in
In the darkest corners
There are no haunted whispers
And only caramel shadows
Transfer daylight's memories
For unto me the stars
Snapping leaves leading moonlight
Are not my coldest lonely hour
But a renewal of soul
Desperate for YouDay by day
Block by block
Tree by tree
Tear by tear
Day by day
Trials and temptation at my door
As the grass grows in the world
My soul being put to the test
Day by day
Every hour and every second
Realizes that I am desperate for the Lord
For the Lord to hold me from falling
Lord, I'm desperate for You
My heart tears and wears from a lack of Your wisdom
I thirst and hunger for You
Lord, You hear my cries and You know that I am desperate for more of You
Lord, You are the only who fills my lungs with air
Lord, You are the only that speaks words into my mouth
Lord, You are the only one that makes my heart beat louder than drums
I'm desperate for more of You; Lord, I'm desperate for You
Teach me Lord to worship You with all that I am on my knees
To depend on You and have Your way in every part of my life
Lord, I am desperate for more of Your love
Lord, I am desperate for more of You in my life
You are the only one that will last forever
You are the only one that will love forever
You are t
hauras (fragments)English version below
kastepisara kielon luomessa
peitteesi lehden suojassa
heräsit unestamme aamuun
in a dream,
a dewdrop on a petal
in the shadow of your leaves
you awoke from our dream
a new morning
your tears and i to mist;
yesterday to oblivion.
Soul of fire;
Yet always the same.
Shall I write to thee
On this hot summer day,
While I wait for the paint to dry?
Who so many fear and loathe
To the very last day that they live.
Who so effortlessly stole my heart
Before I knew I had one to give.
Parent of monsters;
A term so subjective,
As you and I know
So very well.
Shall you smile again
In the face of adversity,
And every wound and weakness belie?
As you do,
By telling naught but truth.
As you must,
To frail sensitivities soothe.
You are not,
Though you'll pretend to it
You can be,
Upon no terms but your own,
Free and untameable spirit;
You belong to none
Yet, for better or worse,
To any and everyone else.
Damaris: Foreign GodWhat is this message that you bring,
what is this "good news" that you preach?
Who is this strange God from afar -
and what should it matter to me?
We are Greeks - we have our gods,
more gods than you.
What's a foreign god to me?
Your story's nice -
but what's it to me?
But you say
was always there,
even when I did not see Him.
has always cared
for all the world
even though we did not know it -
for this God
is the creator
and all mankind is his -
is the sustainer,
who provides for all that is.
This is no foreign God
but the one true God of all -
and that's why it matters to me.
is the one who made me.
is the one who knew me
before I even knew myself.
cares not only for one people -
for all the peoples on earth are His.
In Him we live,
in Him we move,
in Him we have our being -
is the true God
EverydayYou're going to be good,
You're gonna be great.
Don't even hesitate.
Take your chance.
Take a risk.
It's not just about luck.
It's time for change.
You knew where you were.
You may not know where you are now,
But do you know where you're headed?
"Don't look back unless you're going there."
Is the person in the mirror really you?
Do you know who you are?
Did you know that whenever you look at someone, you think about them.
When you look at one another,
Do you see you
Or someone else?
Sometimes it seems life will never change.
But you can.
"Every second is a chance to turn your life around."
If you're alive right now,
You have a reason to live.
"Everyday" is another word for "Opportunity".
WingsI want to fly so high,
higher than the stars that twinkle so brightly,
as if they are challenging me to try and reach them.
No one thinks I can go that high;
they don't even believe that I can get two feet off the ground.
That what they imply,
but I know why they say I won't ever get off the ground
so I shouldn't even dream.
They have let themselves down far too many times,
digging a hole deeper and deeper,
far and far away from the sky.
They don't want me to touch the sky
because they don't want me to achieve my dream,
when they couldn't and won't even try to brush against it.
the ones that have put themselves so low,
that they don't know how to climb out.
So they lash out,
striking at others who they see as someone they could have been.
I won't let them pull me down,
chaining me to the Earth and tear away at me
as if I was Prometheus and they, my razor sharp eagle.
I will fly,
even if I have to build my own wings.
They won't be made of feathers
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