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There are so many things I can't remember,
Did they just slip my mind, or did I want to forget?
I never know if I should look for them.
What if they're too painful to hold?
Would I let it drop, like a burning coal into the deep sea?
Or would I hold it tight?
Would I squeeze till that coal became a diamond?
Can I hold onto the ones that are good?
With so many things lost, where do I look first?
There are so many places for them to hide.
I think it's best that I start now.
Start now, before I forget.
White Pages
It's something different.
Yet at the same time, so familiar.
A page full of words written in white.
I can tell they exist, but what do they say?
Are they words of love?
Sweet nothings meant only for one.
Are they words of anger?
Burning oaths of vengeance and pain.
Are they words of desire?
Passionate dreams of a wistful soul.
Are they words of secrets?
Things meant to be tucked away.
Perhaps they are all of those things.
Reflections of all things seen and heard.
Everyday, I find more white pages.
Perhaps it's time to find new ink.
Sing a Song
Sing,
Sing a song for me.
Sing,
From the beating of a heart.
Sing,
With every breath you take.
Sing,
With everything you have.
Sing,
The things you feel.
Sing,
About the times, good and bad.
Sing,
The rhythm of a thought.
Sing,
The melody of a dream.
Sing,
The anthem of life.
But most of all.
Sing,
Just so I can hear your voice.
Nothing's wrong.
One, nothing's wrong with me.
I work and live like all the rest.
I work all day, and relax all night.
Two, nothing's wrong with me.
I follow the rules and treat others well.
So why do they insult me?
Three, something has to give.
They taunt and tease me every day.
Why can't they just leave me alone?
One, something has to give.
I've told them that it hurts my feelings,
That only encouraged them
Two, something has to give.
I've tried my best to ignore it all.
It's time to make them pay.
Three, something's wrong with me.
I'll pay them back for all the pain.
I'll show them what it means to hurt.
One, something's wrong with me.
I can hear someone calling my name.
I can't find anyone here.
Two, something's wrong with me.
He says I can do it,
He says it's time to end them all.
Three, something has to give.
It's done, it's finished.
They won't hurt me any more.
One, Two, Three
Nothing's wrong with me.
Something Untitled
It screams for my attention
The dream that I can't remembered
It calls me by my name
This dream that lurks in the shadows of thought
It wants to come into the light
The shadows hold it ever tighter
It struggles to be free
Those cries eventually fade away,
It vanishes into the night
Time
A scream, a shout, and a whisper.
Memories cry through the smothering dreams.
Countless points of time repeating,
To the chorus of thing long past.
Till a new moment comes to the world,
Announcing itself with a piercing scream.
Then comes the deafening symphony,
The sound of silence that blankets everything near.
The heartbeat turns into a war drum's boom.
Every breath turns into a hurricane.
Subtle sounds magnified by isolation.
Soon voices shout from somewhere ahead.
An invitation to what could be.
I stand on the threshold of the moment.
The songs of my past echo behind me.
The possibilities of the future call from ahead.
A heartbeat,
A deep breath,
Then a whisper.
“What are you going to do?”
