“Is it really something on which we dwell?
Or is it thoughts with which we comply?”
Rain In My Head
All drizzling down,
Each falling fast,
Collecting on the ground,
Forming clear droplets of water,
Gray covering the sky,
Dullness filling the air,
Just wishing it would end,
The thunder holding me back,
Compacted and shaking is what I am,
My mind without empty space,
My tears float down,
The darkness once within,
And now without,
So please, go away,
This day of black luster,
And as it does,
Clear the droplets from my mind.
A System Within
Nothing much does he look,
But in his mind,
His spirit has been poked then swallowed,
He is one of the simples,
One who portrays a deepening vision in every letter,
His eyes do linger,
Staring at the words is what he did,
But they lack the description of scribbles,
They display his inner mind,
The mind who desperately yearns to heal,
The one who is floating in black,
His eyes resemble the opposite,
A playful day,
Is nothing more than a dying soul,
So he writes,
Not of his sorrowful expressions,
But for what he hopes,
What he wishes.
Is it really something on which we dwell?
Or is it thoughts with which we comply?
What a twisted mind ponders?
Can colors change with hate?
The brightness of a shining day,
To the dullness of an empty night,
The missing pieces of a neglected heart,
All lost in hatred,
Life continues on with every golden rain storm,
And hatred is the black of the sun,
A barrier that blocks,
It tightly dismisses dreams,
So forever forget,
The meaning of an untruthful word,
And discover the door to the beautiful world,