Laments

These aren't mine, but the author doesn't care if I put these up or not.

Love.
Powerful, yet Fragile.
Quick to blossom and quick to die.
Enduring the cold;
Yet wilting in the darkness.
For love, we hope.
For love, we cry.
For love, we live.
For love, we die.

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When all hope dies-
When the brightest light grows dim-
Who do you turn to?
When you're lost-
When you're trapped by a web of your own making-
Who comes to find you?
When you've lost emotion-
When you've died inside-
Who will notice?
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I stand, in the freezing rain, in a place unknown to me.
Cold hard bullets hit my skin, mingling with the tears.
An icy dagger pierced my heart and brought me here.
Pain floods my body, hurting so much I need more to escape it.
Death is the last place I'll ever go.

I draw a mask from its place in my pocket, putting it on.
Whenever someone comes they see the mask, not me.
A happy smiling face in the midst of all the tears.
What they don't know is that the face is just a mask,
Concealing my true feelings from the world.

When certain people travel by, the mask drops to the ground.
Only they can see the person behind the face.
I look up, a flicker of flame and happiness long ago extinguished by the ain.
When they've left, I fall back.
Back into the sea of misery I was looking at moments ago.

I fly, far and away from the rain in the clouds,
On wings of insanity, keeping me from the ground of reality.
I dart into that place called love, not staying long.
Three times I lived there, three times I fell.
The bitter hurt of rejection sharp in my heart.

I am surrounded by the demons of my mind,
Creatures in shadow and darkness of my own making.
Pain feeds them, hate breeds them, and they grow stronger.
They scream words into my mind, words I can no longer ignore.
I shed tears and they drink them, growing powerful on my hurts, stronger than me.

I find the past, a land that I have forgotten but could not ignore.
A small child is sitting in a church, looking on the dead.
He has seen more tears and death than he ever did of love,
More anger and hatred than he ever did of happiness.
That child sees the injustice of the world far before his time.

Happiness is Paradise, Eden.
The land forbidden to us long ago.
I fly, walk, run, and swim, trying to reach that land.
I set foot inside the garden, drinking in the scents and wonders.
And then it is all snatched away, leaving me to the cold hard rain.
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We live in a world of perfect people-
Where nothing is as it seems.

Behind every sinless person there is a devil-
Behind every shining face of truth there lives a lie.
Perfection is a mask, a shining, dazzling costume,
And every person there knows it’s not true.
But all the world chooses to ignore it
Because a lie is preferable to the truth.
Who says I live a life of fantasy?
Who says I live alone in a dream?
I am living, but not alone.
I am accompanied by a people living lies.

Imperfection is always there, in the shadows
Hiding from the bright light of day.
If we do not speak it, we do not feel it
If we do not see it, it must not be there.
If we do not acknowledge its existence,
It's so much easier to ignore it

And then we can pretend it isn't there.
All the world's a stage, the men and women, merely players
And if that's true perfection is their character.
Whirling, dancing, blinding all who meet it
To the dark and moonless darkness hidden within.
Hypocrisy is a way of life
To those who cannot face the truth
Lies ensnare and bewitch to the shining goal above
Perfection is the light, the unattainable
Imperfection is the darkness, the unrelenting truth.
The fallen lie in wait for those who seek the light
For we are only human, not meant to reach that goal.
Weep, willow, for a beauty you will never see,
Nor will any who follow you.

Pretend, child, to be perfect

Hide your flaws and your blemishes

For they are undesirable

No one wants to see what they know exists.

No, child, they want the light,

The warm and golden sunshine for themselves.

If, child, you hide your imperfections,

Then no one will see them,

And they will be able to pretend that

All is well.



There is no moon when the storm clouds gather;

Nor in the inky darkness called a cave.

For the sun has no eyes for the stars, rather

It only listens for the moon.

The rain is soft and soothing;

Thunder follows Lightning,

Putting on a light show so moving.

That even it has it's own beauty, in a way.

Behind the mask is a person;

with faces, feelings, and a name.

Don't be afraid to show yourself

To a world behind a mask.

The dead aren't really gone forever-

Just because there's no proof doesn't mean it isn't there.

There's many things we don't know,

But that doesn't mean they're out of reach.

As she finds solace in the moon;

He finds fire from the sun.

She is seperate, strange to others;

He finds isolation in admiration.

And yet- The world still spins.

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There is a red dawn rising-

The ruby sun lighting up the sky.

Among the doomed, there is crying;

For the bloods spilled does not belong to I.

Born on the wind is sighing,

Just a whisper of the willow tree.

Slowly, the world is dying.

All colour fades from around me.

Fair and blue above me is the sky.

Clouds drift along, soft as cotton.

All the joy in the world will die-

The beauty of the world will lie forgotton.

The mist of the waterfall surrounds me,

As the view before me is uncovered by light.

There is no more to say to those I leave behind me;

As air and water bring me to eternal night.

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