Hidden

Temperature soars over the clouds. The muscle are too tired to shiver in the dark. A storm rages inside the skull, beating against the hard rock trying to break free. But what can be done? Just a small whimper in the blackness is the only sound that could be heard to the sharpest ear.

The light reaches out as penetrating fingers at dawn. Is it a sigh of relief or weariness that is heard to the sharp ear now? All that can be seen is a smooth flawless exterior. Some people would envy it, others would covet it and most would loath it. Moreover does anyone know how the interior looks like? What it hides, is better unknown to any soul.

Understanding

You don't need others to tell me who I am. I can tell you myself.

What I am is

A hopeless disgrace

A nuisance to everyone.

A curtain of darkness that smears everything it touches

An excuse for a living being

An attempt at making life a blooming tree

A doom that wastes most of the time trying to understand undeniable scum

A wasted oppurtunity in trying to find happiness

A bleaching effect is what I bring and what i will bring

But I like it that way....... I don't regret anything I did to you