We want out from sinister things. A backdrop
of hurt breaking away from the sky blue.
My ears have crossed boundaries. The silence
waits. Silence is needing you but you're not here.
A map to dream on. The trees do not stir. They've
learnt to sleep through all the shit humans have
put them through. There is a definite world in
my body. My veins have cried enough. They don't
tell you that being a teenager means being
confused, being torn apart by options. The angst
comes as the afterglow, the death recurring every
time the gun fires. The teenager who exploded his
head after he had killed the others realizing
they felt the same pain too. Who has the answers
clearly imprinted on the skins of their palm? I'll
seek them out. If you're at peace with yourself,
put your hands up. A country of dead hope,
there is no vindication in our smiles. I'm sorry
but after the huge impact of the first sorrow,
the remaining line of sadness follow
in an overbearing pattern.