Everything you say has so much meaning but I don't listen 'cause I don't want to think too much.

I don't want to dig within myself to find an answer and I don't want to be your crutch.

The only thing causing your tears is the pollen.

The leaves are the only things that aren’t fallin'.

But you can't seem to let it all go, and just be nothing.

So tired of not meaning something.

So you listen to the dead birds sing, and you know that it's only spring.

Viewing myself through your eyes,

Watching me as the world dies,

On a warm day with blue skies,

In a home that echoes of silent cries.

Making my ears bleed,

Ringing out like a defying creed.

Growing within me like a demonic seed.

My voice deafens all who listen.

Dying stars cannot glisten.

Frenzied madness, depression, inchoate obsession...everything has a reason.

Well than what caused this treason?

Speaking the truth because you believe the lies.

Throwing flames and catching fireflies.

Recognizing the tears but not my eyes.

Theological Noncognitivism claims me.

Ignosticism and indifferentism contain me.

But in the end I can only bend what is aligned,

And negligently crush that which falters in design.

After all, somebody had to have given me this spine.

Falling all over the place,

With dirt permanently on my face,

I'm a consistent disgrace.

It may be a shame that I believe in apathy,

But at least I can blame myself for each and every catastrophe.

Haphazardly resilient.

Nobody is invincible because death is indivisible.
Begin each day defining the word lost:

“No longer possessed or retained: lost friends.”

“No longer to be found: lost articles.”

“Having gone astray or missed the way; bewildered as to place or direction: lost children.”

“Not used to good purpose, as opportunities, time, or labor; wasted: a lost advantage.”

“Being something that someone has failed to win: a lost prize.”

In a world I recognize,

Familiar with the corruption,

Devouring the lies,

Praying for abduction.

All alone in a world where ignorance is bliss,

Murder is a kiss,

Love is merely trying to trust someone who shares your interests.

Aphotic lust,

Yet lucid and unjust.

Obsolete definitions,

Inconsistent mental conditions.

Coalition of those considered incompetent.

Inhibition, inhibition, inhibition,

All forms, every day.

All storms, every way.

All words, you don't say.

I'm howling at the devils bay,

In heat of the ones who push me away.

The reign rusts my brain,

Driving me insane.

Screaming out in vain,

My bloody throat cannot sustain

The harrowing words born from the despondency and pain,

Conceived in the fires of desolation.

Living every day in desperation.

Drowning, finally.

A book with a cloudy beginning,

Smudged and smeared by time itself.

Turning what you thought was the final page,

And finding one torn from the spine.

You slam the book shut and take what is mine.

A child's endless story should not be given the blame,

For what brought you down in your own raging flames.

But you can't seem to let it all go,

And just be nothing.

So tired of not meaning something.

So you listen to the dead birds sing,

And you know that it's only spring.