A black sky.
A marble ceiling.
The crumbling cement cracks with the wind.
An old dog, with gentle grey
under its chin, sleeps on an
overgrown sidewalk.
A half-finished microwave meal, under
a broken chandelier.
......
"witch" is what they all say "And to Satan she does pray" "Hair tired and grey and we wish she wouldn't stay"
With greenest skin full of warts in the night she gets up to all sorts. They sleep atop the hills gathered with their cohorts. We watch them all Snug, up in the forts So we shall laugh at them full of scoffs and snorts.
But i am not I simply wish to play my lute. Picking upon the earth, gathering the fruit. But a few seem to really know the truth. I am a witch but I mean no harm and you can call me the brute.
But I am one of the most gentle and kind that you could every find. But perhaps you all wish to remain blind I simply wish that we could just all rewind I don't think I need to remind.
The livid life form,
all consuming storm,
drowns those from within,
who are nearly dim,
and knows not mercy,
for those are pursy,
Breaks life and sorrow,
until dusk and morrow.
Yet eager tempest flows,
......
Dark, lonely road it was, drifting;
Wondering about the life I could've had, worrying.
Nothing matters now when nobody cares, but
Nothing in my life was scarce, and who cares.
Dark as the night and mighty as a knight, my life,
Weary it was as I lost my sight, my soul,
Wavered as I am no good at kiting, my love, but
Nothing in my life was scarce, and who cares.
......
Just like you would open the door
to a stranger on a stormy day,
welcome the souls
who knock on your heart.
You never know what
they've gone through.
-precious.whispers
Hard is the way of the world,
Farmers toiling, workers grieving,
Women crying, infants dying.
Hard is the way of the world,
Relinquishing their soul,
Being pushed into a black hole.
Hard is the way of the world.
There's a fire in my brain with steam shooting from both ears, and a flame in each eye boiling every droplet of tear.
I'm trying to keep my thoughts from getting too out of hand, because a long time ago I told myself that joking about suicide was banned.
Next year should breeze, and I'll see the now through trivial lenses.
But this temper is untamable, and I already feel Death's commencements.
'Too far gone' hasn't even left yet,
But sometimes I ask myself if I'd rather an open or closed casket.
......
Donkere dagen, een koude wind,
zorgen die zich opstapelen,
als wolken die de zon bedekken,
stil,zwaar, aanwezig.
De weg voelt soms verloren,
schaduwen groeien in gedachten,
maar ergens, ver weg,
blijft een glimp van licht wachten.
Dare I dream of hope in a world that's self consuming,
and dare I dream of a home where hearts are always blooming.
Peaceful the mind would be in a land I am assuming,
but hardship is what we find in a world that should be booming.
Wisdom shall be your guide in moments that are confusing,
and damned our lives would be if faith we are accusing.
Clouded are peoples minds with rage that’s over fuming,
and lost are those who think that life is just amusing.
......
taking inventory, what have I lost?
warmth
that desire
to feel warmth in my bones
before,
a craving
and now,
all I long for is cold
I stand outside
......