The Dead Mans Land

The depth and the insecurities of the dead mans land,
Was created by the indigestion of one another.
No home-hearted soul to reach out a supporting hand,
No home-loving support to be experienced together.

The remorse of showing no mercy of the frantic evil within,
The mind of the innocent biological souls overpowered by the inanimate satin.

Sweet and Sour are combined to make a reckless yet damaged creation,
To tack upon your despicable and sick collection of abuse.
The collection of having no past childhood,
The one that was never given to you,
But the one that you take away.

The fear reflected in these hopeful sapphires has a price,
Not a financial debt,
But a cost of love and dependence.
You say you love your prerogative ways.
But is it just your insecurities, or your aggressive and internal hatred?

The innocence of the victim is only a new blooded creature of your â??foulâ?? acts,
No knowledge of the misguided intentions,
Wanting to heal those profound wounds and undeveloped mind of the newly created blood.

The mysterious howls of the ambitious wind,
Is then taken by the silent whispers cry.
The whispers of the darkest nights,
Is made alight by the presence of your absence.

The moaning and fatiguing child,
The child of the divided anger, and death of spirituality,
Helpless depression of the darkened and shattered coal,
Reflecting itself in smudged windows of the mentally and emotionally wrecked home.

Though years have passed, and physical attributes have come to their development,
The mind of innocence in the remaining victim, still reads fear, now added with hatred and aggression.

Time to think about all the deprivation of past and unfortunate events,
Time to heal the wounds of the disaster,
This time with independence,
Wanting to conquer the worst of times,
As the saying goes,
â??It is the best of times; it is the worst of times.â??
Living the worst of times your whole life,
DoesDozen seem to make the future look calm or friendly.

Take these scars; place them in my hand,
Wash them clean, with purity of natures smile.
Delete all of this negativity,
No more hatred,
No more depression,
No more memories of the angry past,
Looking into the depth and insecurities of the dead mans land.

The dead mans land was lived upon.
This soil of sweet insanity,
Demand deaths statement,
Belie deaths mind.

Dwell upon the sacred past,
Death is now considered the rebirth of hope,
The death of something to myself I call antique.

This is the night to start over new
The night to decide who I want to be,
The night of my decision,
The night of my future,
The night is the beginning of my independence.
Those previous nights,
Are no longer in my cards,
No longer a part of my life,
No longer a disaster waiting to happen,
No longer a fact worth denying,
No longer a threat,
But tonight it has become a part of my life,
I have to be willing to accept,
This will always be a memory,
But I am willing to make it for the better,
When to start and when to improve?
Tonight and the rest of my life.