Devil's Carnival

How would you run from what's inside?
The broken swings,
And the abandoned dolls,
The carousel turns with the flickering lights,
The horses moving up and down,
To the macabre music,
dances the smiling clown, till the morrow.

How would you run from what's inside?
Your own darkness,
a comforting blanket.
The songs of defeat and pain,
Turn into the bugle announcing
The vanquishing of your sorrow's rain.

Trapdoors

Trap doors everywhere,
One wrong step
Abysmal despair.

Climbing up the stairs
Look behind
No where to go; vertigo.

Warm hands reaching out,
Skeletons of the past,
Pulling you down.

Clear water springs in here,
Mirages they are,
They disappear.

Kind soul,
Arms spread wide.
Only to choke you,
In the dead of the night.

Glitter Gutters

What do they care about us?
Those who walk the nights,
Covered in glitter
And smelling of inebriation.
What do they care about us?
Us with the broken hearts
Us who are so close,
Yet miles apart.
What do they care about us?
Us, who cry into the pillows
Wishing they would know.
Us, who wall the tightropes of sanity.
What do they care about us?
They, who feed us sweet lies
They, who never said goodbye.
What do they care about us?
As our emotions translated into physical pain,
Our innards burning and our brains screaming,
As we peep through our covers, hiding our tears.
But what do they care?
As long as they're all fine and good,
And we're there for the bad days.
What do they care about how they kill us?
What do they care about us?

Toy Soldiers

As much as it hurts,
We are soldiers.
We mask the pain with bandages and expired morphine,
We wear masks on our faces,
If only there were bandages for the soul.

Last Stop- Paradise

Where do we go when we die?
Is it truly the last goodbye?
Do we become stardust again,
Or the essence of rain?
Do we become wistful memories,
Or the sweetness behind pain?
Do we become the grey beneath the colour,
Or the winter behind summer?
Or is it the other way around?
Do we go to the places beyond the horizon,
And fill the gap between the moon and the sun?
Is it us behind that double rainbow,
Or hiding in that evanescent firefly glow?
Do we truly even die?