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Personal Note:

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Poem

Empty minds, stay, walk in lines.
Should you break the cycle, killed by eyes.
By a stare so deadly, it covers lies.
So if you’re ready, please, proceed,
as there’s no time.

Rush to fall in order.
For if you graze the border,
death by sighs.
For the signs, of a normal I,
lay in bed with the sins of fire.

And I make love engulfed in flames,
I touch her skin, despite my rage,
despite my pain, there’s death in change,
as we are all actors and God our stage.

As we bow and head to cage,
within me, something strange.
For as all soldiers stomp and the ground then shakes, my feet rebel and run.

My end.

For I am chased by ghosts,
I am broken and flawed,
I am the odd and the crazy,
the sinner and the lazy.

I, hunted by the force that made me.

I’m not running.

For as the storm approaches fast,
and the clouds they stall my path,
I walk in darkness and breathe at last.

I breathe, before the warriors cut me down, with words sharp as shattered glass.

Though I fall now, my smile’s wide,
For before I died, I know I tried.
I know I lived, as everyone came to feed the beast,
For as he feasts, they marched on beat,
faceless, tired and accepted defeat,
in a world where poetry is dead and art is obsolete.
Where the colors two, as the faces beneath their skin.
Where the mind is heavy and the depth too thin.
Where the lines too straight, and cut too deep.
Where we march in time and the ground too steep.
Where they’re angered, should you speak.
Where I was different.

Where I, lived.

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