The Dark One

On that darkest night,
I could barely write.
All the stars were out and bright,
and not a sign of homemade light.

In this endless, calming dark,
there was no sound, no call, no bark,
nothing at all leaving their mark,
in this endless forest of a park.

Then, to turn my words into lies,
and, to my own surprise,
near some trees that continue to rise,
I saw glowing and mysterious eyes.

I knew not what beast it could be,
but soon, I started to see
that this creature would not leave be
until it had what it came for: Me.

It wanted a new ally in play,
and I who dwelled mostly in day,
looked like someone who was willing to stay
in the darkness, as it was my preferred way.

In it's eyes, it showed me it's fun,
pretending to be like one
who lived happily under the sun,
and manipulated till her doom was done.

It's life was much like mine,
except when crossing one particular line.
Playing the sides for fun was fine,
but not for the despair on which it would dine.

So, in the end, I said no.
But it seemed that it was something it would not let go.
It could not force me to stay, though,
and could do nothing but watch me go.

And now, I notice a new face
that I really wish that I could erase.
It joins its brothers and sisters in that place
that is stuffed with opinions that come from their own base.

Trying to Compare

Blue sky, with white lines.
Green leaf, with brown tendrils.
Yellow flower, with red necks.
Silver moon, with black canvas.

Or...

Blue water, with white corpses.
Green tavern, with brown suds.
Yellow shirt, with red stains.
Silver car, with black blood.

Nature has its beauties and wonders.
Ours has lots of hurtful blunders.
Nature is just so.. natural.
Why do we focus on our nature at all?

The answer hides at the end.

There was once a man,
but he is no longer here.
It is true with life.

We all live to die,
to disappear, and then fall,
into the unknown.

No path escapes it,
yet we don't know where it goes.
How funny is that?

We have our own thoughts,
but none of them are right on.
But still, we hope so.

We will continue
with our little guessing game,
till we join that man.

It's louder and louder every day.

As the beat goes on, I stand my ground,
for nothing really compares to the power of sound.
It is a pleasant thing, which is nice to hear,
but it does so much evil, just through the ear.

We never hear silence, so we always lose health,
and bit by bit, we lose parts of our self.
And yet, some people never put it down,
never do they take off that musical crown.

They may be driven mad, or maybe they'll find
that they can deal, that they have a different mind.
Whatever truth strikes true, there's still lots of the same:
A world full of noise, of light, and of pain.

So, once more, I hunt for quiet in days,
lest I fall deeper and deeper in the vibrations of this world maze.

The Hunt

As it danced before him, he wondered.
He sat there, waiting for it to bend.
He knew it would return, and when it did...
The scenario would come to the end.

He watched as the tongues twisted
in their bright and unusual ways.
He knew, just like before,
that his waiting could take days.

He fed it some more of what he found,
when he went hunting in the woodland that day,
and took focus of how it reacted,
for this was the the last of his pay.

The tongues ate at it quickly,
not caring to thank the old man,
for it knew of his insanity,
and knew that he had a plan.

So, the tongues feinted defeat,
and gave to him what he desired.
And the man, blinded by beauty,
lunged into his own pyre.

And then I realized

It's not for the story, for most of them are lame.

It's not for the newness, for they all look the same.

It's not for the beauty, for there is better on this earth.

It's not for the fair price, for much gold is what they're worth.

It's not for the gimmickry, for such nonsense soon wears thin.

It's not for the winning, for each score feels hollow within.

It's not for collecting rarities, for for they're not real, nor will they be.

It's not for ingenuity, for everything's planned, you see.

It's not to calm down with, for every loss just makes you rage.

It's not for open worlds, for you are just sealed in a cage.

It's not for enjoying with friends, for every match starts a war,

and it's not for education, for that's just not what they're for.

With all these reasons often not striking true,

it does leave me wondering what they're suppose to do.

Other for the obvious reason of someone getting paid,

why in the world were video games invented, designed, and made?

And then, it was gone.

Little bird, as you look from above,
what do you find that you can love?
Life is a burden, for old to raise new,
and why? Well, just to continue.
You don't contemplate love, or any of that.
Your life really sucks, and you may one day be a hat.
So, it really confuses me, and I can't understand why,
when you jump to your death, you do it to fly...

Love is a jerk, or a god. Maybe both.

Oh, heart,
why are you such a jerk?

You love and break so easily,
falling for one, then more,
wanting it all, knowing all the while it will never work,
crying at the inevitable goodbye,
making my stomach a black ball of emotion,
and my mind a mess of over thought thoughts.

You are greedy,
and will hate as you see something beautiful come and go,
when life is bliss for others,
you drag me through the swamps of misery.
Just the feeling of wanting to feel,
it betrays my ways, when things were good, pure.

Oh, heart,
why are you so...

Heartless?