Who made you the creator of my thoughts?
Who made you the vision of my god?
Inspired words don’t always explain…
…the burden of truth, of battles lost
Scribblings on my grave are memories that I made.
Slowly exhaling the youth away…
Fading into the void I can’t describe…
In front of the broken mirror.
I don’t mind being dead, Is life worth living again?
Death is my friend, it will come for me…
…Is blindness making me see again?
For I shall see what I have to.
Paused mid-air, back to the grind…
The melancholy sound of footsteps fading…
Ruffling the leaves. Why did you come back to me?
Run to me. Pause. Go away.
Whistle made a shrill noise, I stepped back into abyss.
I am the creator of my destiny.
Will you come with me?
A gamble of life, just like Russian roulette.
The snake hissed his pain into the light.
That never ending fight.
Distilled the fear of losing my home.
To each his own, To each their own.
Clinking bells and twinkling stars.
Trail is forgotten, not the sweet pain of completion.
Breathing that air that we all share, killing the birth of a nation.