If hell were real

We couldn’t know

For Life and death

Prevail to show

That pain and joy

Is fairly grown

Across the mind

Despite the rest

Of a cruel cold world

Or a fiery breath

You see

What we know

As happiness

Does not come from life

Or heaven sent

Just like pain

It comes from where

We think our thoughts

And grow our hair

If life is hell

And we’re already here

Who’s to tell

If our minds adjusted

Relativity should be simple

To the mind of the illustrious

So if your minds with mine

You can see the truth

That what hell could be

Is only within you

And an eternal burning

Will not burn for eternity

As long as you’ve been burning

Long enough to return to glee

I

Live in my purest form

I

See all the birds that swarm

I

Can’t feel the life inside

Lost

in a blank demise

I

Hear my own ghost calling

He

Tells me that I’m falling

I

Just can’t withstand the truth

And

Succumb my lively youth

So

Here I beg and plead

Against my own beliefs

I

Sound off on beds and leaves

I

tell the help I need

But

I hear no response

The

Sign of a fleeting god

I’m

so Lost in time and space

I

Wish that my life erased

When

I know I feel this pain

I

Try to avoid the reign

Of

My own terror

But it’s

So deep inside me

I

Can’t see that deep inside me

But

I swear that it can see me

I

Swear that it controls me

So I

Guess I’m a living goat

But

Not in the way I hoped

I

See that my life was wrote

Not in the tone i needed

Underneath it all

Against my minds resolve

I

Guess I keep on breathing

What is this life I’m leading

And if I died today

I know who I’d be leaving

I just can’t stand that thought

But

What does it matter

If I’m in a bleak abyss

I wouldn’t feel their pain

I wouldn’t hear their cries

No remorse or sorrow

But still I know they pray

That I wake up tomorrow

And for that I’m sorry

Mama please forgive me

I didn’t have an option

I stood on that ledge

And saw the flames approaching

I had to choose a death

Dead or alive I bargained

For a better life

But it never came

Once again I’m sorry

know you’re not to blame

And when you seek that ledge

I know you’ll feel the same

But

When we both arrive

Locked in eternal flames

The flames from which we ran

Stand

Trial as a saint

But

I find peace in how

My feet left the ledge

The way the wind erupted

The way my body loved it

Gave me a taste of free

And

That’s enough for me

My ghost came to me today

I just wanted answers and I see that he wanted them too

As I kept my hopes for a message of hope

He stared me dead in our eyes

He told me blankly with no reservation we were our demise

He told me he wish he could share some meaningful advice

But

The execution of a plan didn’t bring life to his eyes

So

When I speak to him now, it seems I’m speaking down

It was all a disappointment and can see that now

What was done could never be undone

And thus the darkest thought

A roads bleak lights fading away, but no desire to turnaround

And if I turned around

It’d take more than I have to cover that ground

But

it’s beautiful when I look in his soul

A collection of thoughts connected only by his mind

Sharing no correlation, no master design

Just

Existing simultaneously and sharing a time

And

when I saw him I swear I felt something

Quite the antithesis to this feeling of feeling nothing

I see with every breath he fades more

And repentantly that I swear to mourn

But if I’m him than who’s here to mourn me

I’ve tried so many times to be a reborn me

But maybe

I can live on as a passing thought

In the minds of a few people but not a lot

I see life for its truth

And that they never knew

So I told my ghost when they think of me, I hope they think of you

But as time grew weary

And our thoughts more eerie

In a voice detached from life itself

He told me gently that life is hell

And after that

My ghost told me that he had to return to his coffin

He said he’ll see me there soon

And at that moment I wish I was scoffin

I looked to his fading face and emulating haze

And without any hesitation or reasonable doubt

I assured him I’d be there in just a few days

Alright, so that’s it then? Time to settle I suppose, because life’s taken me so far I can’t think and my minds barred, my thoughts flowing, I’m tired of it, because the more it does, the more it realizes the life I’m in and I feel within that it’s sickening,The more I think about where I am, the further it disappoints where I was going, a place that was glowing, a place that I once knew like it was where I had been forever but now it’s gone, and unfortunately it had been remembered. I can’t fathom the consequential depths of where my failures are taking me, because I can’t go any further. I can’t go any deeper, because what’s deeper to someone who’s never seen it? What’s deeper to someone who never dared to dream it? What’s deeper can’t be more pain because the pain I’m in is incomparable, but that’s just it I have nothing to compare it to.

To say I’m scared of the path I’ve taken would be an understatement, a sick, twisted reminiscence of the life I lived only serves to lower me, because I’ve seen the heights of where I once was, and the heights of where I once was, now, are too far to see. I suppose non-hyperbolically that I’ve fallen off. The climb back up looks inconceivable, and my desire to attempt it is vapid, because when I do fall off again it’ll be just as harrowing, but at least I’ll have mapped it.

At the same time, I wonder what’s deeper, this route is like a drug, I yearn for it, and the Pain is like a teacher, I learn for it, because the more I seem to learn, the more that this all hurts, and when you see a route to a potential polish, and you fail to do, that’s detrimental knowledge, and it’s failed you.

Maybe these are life’s so called peaks and valleys, and I hope so. But from the peaks I could see all the valleys, and from where I stand, I don’t see peaks, i just see the balance of a world where we all peak and move to lesser mountains, just to pursue what we once knew, because we can’t live without it, but what we once knew is in the past, but we can’t accept it the future, as it’s grim and vast, but may as well go forward, as I haven’t gassed, because if I can feel this pain, I know my emotions last.

I’ve noticed positivity attracts but

What’s positivity in the grand scheme?

One can never feel motivation to live

Without feeling an inclination to die

In the same breath

When A transparent mans thoughts run awry

It’s not often he reveals thoughts of a blue sky

But rather thoughts of an imminent casket

A place so dark, no others could match it

And when truth be told is as such

We tend to not think of much

We tend to think of the lack of anything

A place we’re approaching

So simple and complex

The concept we can’t understand

Is the concept that all life demands

Truth be evident

The ones who tend to be the most positive

Have the lives of something that’s fabricated

They live lies to avoid being aggravated

If pessimism is to teach anything

It’s to teach an intrapersonal awareness

That in the honor of fairness

Sees life for which it is

And not life for which it could have been

Because could have Weighs heavily

On the mind of someone who’s readily

Pursuing veracity

With the eyes of peerless limpidity

But In the mind of someone who’s similes

Consist of lies and delusional imagery

Their demise

Can be summarized as critically

Misinformed, in a storm of idiocy

So to a truth seeker who is as he claims

Living life in the perspective of flames

Is not only implied

But roughly self evident

And In the end, these truths are definite

My inclination to hate

Has been a motivation of late

Whether the life dried through the lens of my eyes

The water running has ceased to exist

As the only thing I seize is the seeming abyss

Head hung, the ground moves

Brain dead, I’m sound proof

With every second passed

I breathe my last Breath

As if every second I died again

In the hopes of finding life again

Asphyxiated on me

I swear not to let my heart speak

For it does what others what it did to itself

Which is life without joy

And a deprivation of help

Incessantly I seek calm

I found it in chaos

I find life on earth a bit numb

Obsequious to its hum

I follow it without doubt

Antithetically I suppose

There was once a time in which dreams of greatness existed within the vacuum of a minuscule world, one that was full of wondrous familiarity, and little variables. As we wrote our dreams on the paper, the prospect of those dreams were the source from which we derived our passion and imagination. As years passed, we were told that our dreams are just that, we were told to construct a backup plan to our inevitable failure, which even then seemed evitable. As our voices became morbid to listen to, so did the words spoken to us by those who had embraced the harsh reality in which we existed. As our dreams shifted from astronauts to accountants, we spoke of lesser things and lesser ideas. A dream deviation was only standard and the line between a doctor and an engineer was no longer calculated by impact but rather by salary, instead of changing the world we let the world change us, and instead of conquering our biggest dreams, we let our biggest dreams conquer us, leaving us soulless in front of a faceless world in which we accepted as the only way out. At an early age we put our dreams in a bottle and sent it out to sea, only to be discovered and crushed once again, instead of looking up at space in wonder, we looked at our own face in wonder of where we went wrong, but as went is in the past tense, so was our passion, we gathered ourselves and walked back to the television set that was once used as a break from activity, but since activity had already broken us, we sat there mindless and gazing at the perpetual ignorance from which we derive our meaninglessness and inertia. The great Albert Einstein once said "Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid." If we are told our whole lives that we cannot achieve our dreams, we will live our whole lives in the belief that dreams are just dreams, and as the hand of the pessimist strikes we will fall down and refuse to get back up, where our once bright and buoyant dreams existed, we now only feel despondent. We feel weak and helpless against the inevitability of failure and nullity, and while the other fish evolve to have legs, we still sit at the bottom of a tree that never seems to end, and there we could stay... or we could turn and swim. When that very hand that struck you down hits again, we can get up, brush ourselves off, and continue moving towards the dream that is no longer tarnished by the words of others, and the closer we get to it, the more tangible it will become, and as we are struck harder and harder the closer we get to it, our vehemence will put one foot in front of the other until the tips of our fingers are so close to touching it, we can feel the weight lifted off our chest, that same weight that kept you at the bottom of the tree... But if we don't get there, our minds will swirl with what if statements, and we will fail to be defined by what we did do but instead what we could have done. The hand will no longer strike, but optimism will no longer carry you forward, and there we will be stuck, in the vast nullity of an unfamiliar vacuum, and worst of all, we might just grow legs, we might be that very hand that strikes the dreamer down, the dreamer that manifests all of our failures, that ignorant dreamer that has yet to accept reality, that ignorant dreamer that has a skewed naive perception of the real world, that evil dreamer that wants to alter everything we have in place, that evil dreamer that refuses to fail like most of us have done... That dreamer that envisions a new way, that dreamer that does the opposite of everything they have been told, that dreamer that has a courageous and powerful mind, that dreamer who wants to change the world, the dreamer we once were, the dreamer We still are, the dreamer We don't want to be. We will deny that we all have a dream, we all want to be something more, and the everlasting pursuit for greatness may be one too terrifying to take on, but one we all have dreamed of. While we might propel the hand, and have legs under us, deep down we all are dreamers, but we are all selfish, if we cannot have it we declare no one else can have it, and if we do work hard enough to achieve that dream, we must teach others how to swim, how to get back up, and how to fight for that same dream that once seemed so unachievable, in the face of a society full of what could have beens, what could still be is something worth fighting for, and in the words of Eleanor Roosevelt "The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."

There was once a time in which dreams of greatness existed within the vacuum of a minuscule world, one that was full of wondrous familiarity, and little variables. As we wrote our dreams on the paper, the prospect of those dreams were the source from which we derived our passion and imagination. As years passed, we were told that our dreams are just that, we were told to construct a backup plan to our inevitable failure, which even then seemed evitable. As our voices became morbid to listen to, so did the words spoken to us by those who had embraced the harsh reality in which we existed. As our dreams shifted from astronauts to accountants, we spoke of lesser things and lesser ideas. A dream deviation was only standard and the line between a doctor and an engineer was no longer calculated by impact but rather by salary, instead of changing the world we let the world change us, and instead of conquering our biggest dreams, we let our biggest dreams conquer us, leaving us soulless in front of a faceless world in which we accepted as the only way out. At an early age we put our dreams in a bottle and sent it out to sea, only to be discovered and crushed once again, instead of looking up at space in wonder, we looked at our own face in wonder of where we went wrong, but as went is in the past tense, so was our passion, we gathered ourselves and walked back to the television set that was once used as a break from activity, but since activity had already broken us, we sat there mindless and gazing at the perpetual ignorance from which we derive our meaninglessness and inertia. The great Albert Einstein once said "Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid." If we are told our whole lives that we cannot achieve our dreams, we will live our whole lives in the belief that dreams are just dreams, and as the hand of the pessimist strikes we will fall down and refuse to get back up, where our once bright and buoyant dreams existed, we now only feel despondent. We feel weak and helpless against the inevitability of failure and nullity, and while the other fish evolve to have legs, we still sit at the bottom of a tree that never seems to end, and there we could stay... or we could turn and swim. When that very hand that struck you down hits again, we can get up, brush ourselves off, and continue moving towards the dream that is no longer tarnished by the words of others, and the closer we get to it, the more tangible it will become, and as we are struck harder and harder the closer we get to it, our vehemence will put one foot in front of the other until the tips of our fingers are so close to touching it, we can feel the weight lifted off our chest, that same weight that kept you at the bottom of the tree... But if we don't get there, our minds will swirl with what if statements, and we will fail to be defined by what we did do but instead what we could have done. The hand will no longer strike, but optimism will no longer carry you forward, and there we will be stuck, in the vast nullity of an unfamiliar vacuum, and worst of all, we might just grow legs, we might be that very hand that strikes the dreamer down, the dreamer that manifests all of our failures, that ignorant dreamer that has yet to accept reality, that ignorant dreamer that has a skewed naive perception of the real world, that evil dreamer that wants to alter everything we have in place, that evil dreamer that refuses to fail like most of us have done... That dreamer that envisions a new way, that dreamer that does the opposite of everything they have been told, that dreamer that has a courageous and powerful mind, that dreamer who wants to change the world, the dreamer we once were, the dreamer We still are, the dreamer We don't want to be. We will deny that we all have a dream, we all want to be something more, and the everlasting pursuit for greatness may be one too terrifying to take on, but one we all have dreamed of. While we might propel the hand, and have legs under us, deep down we all are dreamers, but we are all selfish, if we cannot have it we declare no one else can have it, and if we do work hard enough to achieve that dream, we must teach others how to swim, how to get back up, and how to fight for that same dream that once seemed so unachievable, in the face of a society full of what could have beens, what could still be is something worth fighting for, and in the words of Eleanor Roosevelt "The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."