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We all cry and scream to the heavens as the poets come to life.
The pain you have showed me the tears you cast like some fucked up version of Welcome to Neverland.
The lies you spread through your unspoken words. The sparkling of your eyes was simply a light that blinded most others to the true evil residing within your shell of a man a true beast lies inside. Suffer all the innocent the young and the brave as you laugh at their efforts to ride through the day. A true beast you are but your logic I can't deny. People say to just paint on your happy face and you'll make it through the day but what for? So that you may do it again and again till the paint wears out and the cracks of misery begin to show through. Till our plaster mold breaks and we are a lightway through to the real pain in the world. Till we are a beacon of misery and hate and pain. Till society sees are worth is gone and throws us aside into the pile of ash of others before us and another innocent yo uth to take our place. So that we can allow others to build a fort around themselves from the diseased the hungry the crying and screams. So that we can go on our way pretending that our world and minds are true and that they're aren't poor innocent souls dying and fading just trying to hold on.