An English Writer's Mind

A question of concern                                                              Words that spew out from the masses From those that will yearn                                            Never once seeing the thoughts full of caskets Hoping one day that they'll never learn                                             Visions of pain, infliction, and acids Early sight bemoaned to a casket or urn                                Forevermore fearing being buried in ashes Those memories are dear, deserving o...

Each new day brings a sun that's rising  My mind isn't compromising   It's comprising of thoughts not confiding in shots    Connecting no dots and idolizing dreadnoughts     Asking me always my thoughts on what a beautiful suicide means.       How do we act, how do we fall,       What's the best way to answer when Death gives us that call        I've seen how I die in most ways, not all         I thank my will my veins aren't drowning in ethanol         Though I can recall years against the wall          hitting a bottle of alcohol, like some repeat protocol           Just tryna end it all. That fate is one I must erase            Once and for all.            Why do I fight? I'm still asking to this day.            ...

How is it that when I seek help, try to find peace         I'm detained to a world of noise Distractions, televisions, monitors, a menagerie of people         And all I want is absolute silence Judging eyes without a chance to defend         It irritates, not stimulates the sense What they want from me is not what I need         Faltering my strength, my balance, my poise This society has taken everything from me         Array from the pain, the discord, and voilence Something these vultures do not comprehend         Peace from this, are they really so dense Just leave me alone So I can be free Mentally you bleed What must you atone You speak of solitude, but you know who you are        this journey here ventured has brought us thus far It's easy to hide, to reserve in a shell            ...

How many times have you met the Reaper? Your every breath will one day cometh To you become the eternal sleeper. But not today. Not tomorrow, Not any time soon. Don’t even come back. I’m alive and I like that. I am not a buffoon, No sorrow. Here to stay. I’ve changed my life, I’ve dug deeper. Eye to eye with the face of Death, My eyes, a proud demeanor.