TheModernDayBukowski

My dear, My dear, please wipe your tears, for we still have to pray, we prey for the strong for we may be weak, but we come through everyday, set down the masts, alas, at last, we've made it back to shore, so we may last through times that pass like ants skittering through the floor, this life was made for us to live so please do not lose hope, take leaps of faith if it may help, keep you tethered to my rope, there'll come a day, where I will say, 'I love you' for the last, my dear, my dear, please wipe your tears, for surely time will pass, my dear, my dear, please raise your head for through storms and skies of grey, from day to day, no mat

The Wind is Stale, through the howling gale, pale wraiths hail through Diana's moon, struck upon the bloomed monsoon, Zephy'rs cry and Tailwinds whip, as quick, as slick, as rain drops drip, throughout the land, through Terraform through lightning strikes and Eye's of Storms.

The pain runs swiftly through the white as the Angel glides along, The tides of clouds crawl through the white as the pain is slowly caught, Aid in blue come to the call and bring forth tools of green, The pain then hides behind the tides, And waits for heavy shrieks, The window opens, Air floods in, And the Angel goes to sleep, As do the patients in the white, Whom too will end the weep

Pause, we play a part in this life but sometimes we have no, cause, our role is to fulfill the story we are deemed worthy of, jaws, leap at us, darting towards our, flaws, constantly being bombarded by, laws, in society that determines who succeeds and who, falls, Play Society. Gotta hate it.

Life was a blank canvas when you were a child, you ran around the grass with no hesitation, bare foot. You played in the sun, from start to finish, wishing that outdoors was not a temporary fling but a home. You ate until you felt the force of your stomach, not caving in but growing out. You watched cartoons, immersing yourself in some fictitious, fun wonderland, the kind that makes you dream. You'd run to your parents, kiss them and tell them that the love you have is content for them. Then suddenly when you grow up, you see the creaks on the Canvas. You notice the insecurities start building up like smoke in a chimney with no opening. As y

Where do my thoughts go when I wallow in sleep, How much more promises must I keep, Lead sights meat and meat flees wry, The earth grows cold as the angels cry, The stench of hell grows foul yet sweet, The sour cement flows through the keep, The demons crawl into the dark, And that is where the evil starts, Where no one can see, the act of death, That slits ones throat, which reaps for breath, And as grim arrives, he harvests lives, Too many pull men, Much less spent wives.