My Sphere of Madness

Don’t Let Go

“I’m leaving today”
Words I never thought I’d say
“Can’t stay with you forever”

You nodded and sighed
something inside of me died
Though you promised me you’d never

..let me go

Don’t let me leave you like this
Don’t let this be our last kiss
Don’t you dare to let go
Please tell me “no” Read the rest of this entry »

WHITE WALLS OFFER ME NO COMFORT,
THEY’LL NEVER MAKE ME FEEL AT HOME.

WHITE WALLS FRIGHTENS ME WITH THEIR COLD,
THEY MAKE ME NERVOUS, THEY MAKE ME ROAM.

WHITE WALLS SURROUNDING ME, MAKES ME FEEL ALONE.
THEY HOLD NO LOVE, THE HEART HAS ALREADY FLOWN.

WHITE WALLS HOLDS ME THEIR CAPTIVE,
DEMANDS MY PRESENCE ‘TILL I’VE PAID THE COST.

THESE WHITE WALLS, THEY SCARE ME NOW,
THEY’RE A SYMBOL OF ALL I’VE LOST.

Original photo: http://pixdaus.com/single.php?id=40131

I encountered Death today, he sat beside me on a bench in the park, an old man hardened by his many years. We sat a long while in silence, as I watched him feeding the pigeons. He sighed and gazed after them as they took flight into the clear blue sky.
“It wears an old man out, this work I do.” He said as he looked right through me with a distant stare. “It tires me not being wanted when I come. And it breaks my heart when they welcome me with a smile.”
I studied his face, as I memorized each furrow and line. I took note of crooked fingers on hands that were shaking, nearly unnoticeable. A long life on duty in the afterlife, as a bringer and a guide, was reflected in his eyes, and had given him a sorrowful smile.
He sighed again, and closed his eyes. And as I watched my aging friend, I couldn’t help but wonder; could Death ever retire?
Read the rest of this entry »

I’m no poet, my words are simple and plain.
A resort when all other means seems in vain.

Sometimes they come naturally, they find me somehow,
and all I do is receive, say my thanks and bow.

At other times, they hide, and I have to seek them out.
Finding words to compliment my feelings, that’s what it’s all about..

Engrossed in my darkness, feeling lone and weak,
I write down the words I can’t bear to speak.

That’s when I search for my words in all the wrong places,
finding them hidden behind unfamiliar faces.

It’s a strange thing, really, how words can lead you astray,
and at the same time they will guide you back to you way..

I often find that my word making my head spin,
when I thought I was loosing, they make sure I win.

But usually my words take me where I don’t want to go,
telling me things I really don’t want to know.

They dig into my soul, and they’re not very kind,
revealing everything I’ve buried in the back of my mind.

When I pick up my pen, and let my thoughts drift,
they grab the chance, attacking precisely and swift.

Always finding the right spot to cause me distress,
turning my mind into a absolute mess.

Still, I keep on writing, I can’t tell you why.
There’s no explanation, even if I try..

These words, they force their way into my mind,
and I can’t resist writing down the once that I find.

They’re not always cheerful, they often make me sad.
And sometimes, the fact that they’re there, drives me mad.

Words are for writer and poets, not me.
They need someone that understands what they can be.

I believe words are like people, they have different sides,
and you can’t really know what that within them resides.

Yet, I scribble down everything, and nothing at all,
knowing it’ll pick me up when I fall.

My words are my refuge, they keep me from going insane.
And the fact is, it doesn’t really bother me that they’re plain.

Without my writing, my head would probably explode,
or at least my sanity would crumble under the heavy load.

I am not a poet, just an admirer of every word and phrase,
and the astonishing ability they hold to amaze.