Daring to yearn for freedom as
the doors of your prison open
the view of white death before you
all of your small hopes broken
standing in a door between hell’s
cold fingers brush your skin
beautiful death covers the hills

The horror, the brutality
eats away at my heart until I no longer
see the need to go on.

I bite my lip,
holding in the
rage,
the remorce
the screams
I want the world to hear.
but they won’t.

The words that I say may confuse you
corrupt your mind
drive you crazy
but the one thing
it is for sure to do
is kill you
make you cry
try to run
but the words
will find you
in your dreams of lies
you shall tell me

Horrific scenery fills my mind
Some from the future, some from behind
Nightmare images that fill others with Dread
The world would be better if My Kind were dead
In spite of the sacrifices of those we’re above
We see a future without Hope, Faith, or Love

I sit in my bed,
Rain pouring outside,
Sadness of the past flooding through my windows,
The night that my father left,
The day he decided I did not matter,
At a young age,
I was left alone,
On a rainy night like this one,
Hours past,

She was like a spider.
Walking youthfully and childlike,
on the verge of being crushed.

She was robbed of her innocence,
it was taken away before her prime.
She sat staring out the window,
the tears falling like the rain outside.

Every time that you
promise It puts me in this
constant positive mood then
you let me down

why don’t you just stop it?

Getting my hopes up so high
why would you even bother?
This relationship slightly
reminding me of my father

Honestly, if you ever think about it
No one ever knows where to turn,
The corridors are melting into hallways
These hallways are melting into hell.

Tonight I let my shadow wind around my ankles
Soft fingers pulling me down as I succumb to myself.
I look inside to find a growing grasping black.
You should have risen by now, your cadence the only light
In my inner endless tribute to things worse than death,

I wish more things were black.
Watch the depression stack
Bury the emotion in a deep sack
Take all the hate and give it back
The whip of remorse has a thundering crack
I wish more things were black.

My ma says

She pushed my stroller

around the bumpy streets of

Queens, Jamaica, Long Island,

even Manhattan,

Through rain and snow, all

alone.

Finding no help from the

passengers, all ignoring her

silent plea

Walking step by step to a place unknown,

people look past me like I’m a monster,

part of the disowned.

My heart is lost and I’m brought to a shadow of blue,

cheeks stained with tears,

a feeling that is far from new.

By the time the night is over,