For years your dark hands
and warped mind haunted my days...
We put on our
happy faces...
Another poem to my depression:
You are what I slip on...
What would you give up, what could you go without?
Would you give the things that excite and make you...
Land of the golden dome
Decorated in crimson hue...
On this chair, in darkness, it's all so clear.
In control of emotions, thoughts and fear...
If sometimes you can forget what you want
and focus on only what you give...
I wonder what Martin would think,
if he took a look at our generation...
Sometimes bad things happen to good people,
And that's just the way it is because there's...
From contemplation to conviction
Vows to valleys of addiction...
Without one single thought of self,
And for others I would not care...
My future is a blank paper
nestling inside a fortune cookie...