Who Am I?Who Am I?I'm just a speck of dust,Midst the depth of this universe.Who Am I?I'm just an insignificant clog,In the machine that shapes this block.Who Am I?I'm just an unheard scream,Buried beneath this bigoted scene.Who Am I?I'm just a twisted vine,Molded to their whims and rhymes.Who Am I?I'm just an insignificant letter,In this opus that binds us together.Who Am I?
A Disease Called Loneliness...A Disease Called Loneliness...Loneliness is a disease,a sickness of sorts.It is debilitating,heart wrenching,mind numbingly painful.It is somethingthat can never go away on it's own.No drugs have been inventedthat can cure it andno therapy can help treat it.It is something that startswith a broken heart andcan take your breath awayeven in mid sleep waking youas your lungs gasp for air.Then when you thinkit can get no worse.It begins to spreadthroughout your entire bodylike a dreadful cancer.I can feel it in the pit of my stomach now.Gnawing away at bothmy insides and my Soul...as it creeps it's way outwardstainting everything it touches...I have felt traces of itin my elbows and kneesand through out my arms and legs...all the way to my fingers and toes.Making me feel much older than I should.So bad now in fact, people ask if I'm alright.I do not make any noise,I try and keep a straight face.I try to act like all is ok.But they say I look paler...I ju
Her Aesthetic CrusadeShe paints a world of crimson midnight,and you watch the sanguine colors drip down her skin.Wilted rose petals stain her wrist scarlet,and canyons are carved deep in porcelain flesh."Battle scars," she tells you simply with a flick of the paintbrush,meticulous as she resumes her sanguine masterpiece."Have you won?" you ask,though you already know the answer.She smiles fondly and holds up the tormented easel,for all to see the newly wrought crevice of flaming burgundy."How can one win this war against the burning red, my friend,when you can barely win the battle against yourself?"