A Human shape of dark gold
picture of a fallen angel,
Though out of tears of humanity
A Stage where the devil danced
sits a heart full of romance,
Skin cold to the touch,
narrow eyes say so much,
Demons plead to vanity
betraying oneself through insanity,
Rages of a daggers thrust,
again, never be able to trust
Left at the bottom starved of humanity,
begging loud for sanity,
Mouth drying for life of hunger
physically harming to creep from slumber,
A soul of sugar succumbed to salt,
guilt embedded, self always at fault
Be the soul that holds the hand
to lift the person from the ground,
Acknowledge those Deep Blue eyes of fright,
buried inside hides a light.
How it ends growing up with a dysfunctional parent, you both end up feeling shipwrecked…
When time passes by what’s left. Regret, guilt and shame, being bored?. Is that a life to live, a story to share with young loved ones.
No, procrastinating is an humorous excuse used too often. If you want to live a calm, comfortable life then that’s fine, but don’t talk bigger, or imagine a better future if you’re happy.
No-one wants to hear stories of excuses and what-if stories of things that could’ve happened to them.
Lost dreams take up to much air space and mind room. There’s nothing to stop a productive imagination reproducing what it sees. Living the dreams that seem far away.
You just have to want it bad enough, to be bothered to try and grasp it with both hands.
Everyone loves a trier, even if you fail you tried. Tell the story of how you went for it, how you followed your heart. It’s an adventure if nothing else.
There’s no way to recreate the feelings of a light bulb moment when it hits. The excitement it projects.
Do it before it’s too late.
This speech is inside my head every day. My gut telling me I want more. And there’s only one way…
Like walking your own grave
Dark, damp and endless
Feeding on the brave
Rope bound, quenching the soul
Teasing the God given affliction
A Demons yard where games are played
Provoking hope by swaping addiction
Night fades into day
It’s all the same
Time rarely exists
Small slice of the mind game
An Angel holds my hand
Evaporates from my eyes
Now I understand
That all hope,
Is the Devil in disguise
My history is no mystery. It’s shines in the background, as do I.
My life is an open book, if you ask I shall tell you the truth of my afflictions.
OCD, agoraphobia, depression, all haunted my soul for so long. Making me feel guilt and pain for no reason. Polluting my thoughts with never-ending negative whirlwinds.
Sometimes it was hard to think of what to believe. The truth inside me, or the inner voice spouting falsehoods and creating a dark landscape for me to follow.
I learned to diminish these happenings, put aside the demon to the sides of me.
Only then could I breathe clean air, think clear thoughts and live a truth, not a lie.
My character has, and always will remain intact. My soul has been tainted by ill mental health, but my fight and vision lies true.
Whichever way round I end up when I pass, it won’t last
Even in death I won’t find the right path
Mind pulling up and then channelling down
When I’m lost do I even make a sound?
Limbo is my forevermore, bleak is my host
Life or death, in people’s eyes, I’m just a ghost.