Talk

I fill my pages with words Scribbled in the margin  Crammed into every white space Black and blue and sometimes red  There is never enough  Poems and stories and songs  If I keep speaking Maybe someone will start listening 

What are you made of?

What makes you? ~~~ Made of sticks and stones,The wind whistles a melody,Through open holes,Crooked smile, charcoal bones,My footsteps are the Pounding of a waterfallAnd my thoughts?They are gunpowderMy heart pulls the triggerLoud LoudLoudMade of blood and bones,Singing to a silent song,Every wrinkled shown,Shadowed eyes, withered crone

Enough

I turn back And watchI see redHistory remains mercilessBroken ruins merely shadowsCarved in stoneI will not wipe my tearsI will not soothe my angerI will not lower my headI am coming They have taken enough 

Impossible

Feeling inspired while listening to music. I guess this is more of an idealist view of the world. ~~~ If there is no place for you here,Carve one out for yourself,Chisel the scarred outline,Of something better,If no one will look twice your way,Burn the richest shade of gold,Be as unforgively beautiful,As the rising sun,If the … Continue reading Impossible