Sometimes I wish nothing more
than for the world to leave me to my own ends
The cruel, cold world in which we live
seems no more real to me than my dreams
dreams of death and destruction
where the only reward is to rip someone's throat out
where a person is no more than flesh to be had and tossed aside
as if we were no more than a shiny object to a rat
we can't possibly take more than was offered
and we can't possibly offer less than what others wish
We live in a world where money is more valued than our very lives
People tear us down just to build us up to our highest
to see how far we can fall the next time to come
how hard we hit the ground
and whether or not the impact of their words and actions will break
         us.
we are nothing more than skin draped loosely from a frame
sheilding and hiding the truth of what we are
of our thoughts and of our doings of the past
Of our breakings and mendings
Of our intentions and actions
Of our emotions that fuel us.
Of Anger and Sorrow
Both so deep and clear, that to feel them would seem shallow
so bottle it up inside, don't let anybody in
for in this world they will hurt you and deprive you of your
         innocence
They rape your mind keeping nothing sacred.
Pillaging your heart, leaving your soal to soak up the blood of
         the wounds left behind
we must wait out the long road to torture our very soals
until nothing is left of our inner self but scars.
Only then will Death will come to us
and never a moment to soon
to end the suffering