You stirred my mind,
Like a soup flavoured from a thousand voices over time,
Echoing In unison, like a chorus leading the blind.
Yet I'm left behind.
Voices like harsh rocks smashing windows in abandoned homes.
Crack dens laced with holes for broken souls.
That's where happy thoughts are murderer.
A crime scene for what could have been.
The mean thoughts that bully the good.
Like gangsters who own that hood.
Or ghost Like creeps that would murder children in the woods.
The dark forest that resides behind the blacks of our eyes,
The muffled screams from our inner child trapped inside.
That's what darkness feels like.
Not a canvas stained black as night.
Thoughts that perhaps wanted to be something else.
But got caught in the wrong crowd.
A plague that spreads across our subconscious ground.
Where pieces of hope are shattered and scattered and lost.
But desperately hoping to catch that train of thought so they can be found.
Muted by the demonic versions,
As they fight to find their sound.
The diamonds among our rough.
In amongst all our painful stuff.
Maybe pain is actually our love that got twisted around?
Healing that’s confused as its inside out.
That blanket of joy that just got stuck.
On the thorns of fear that tear through the fabric of you.
As those best parts sadly disappear.
We stare in the mirror hoping they’ll reappear.
Like a delayed magic trick.
The kind that makes your mind sick.
Sharp thoughts cutting at your flesh.
Like a fine red line.
That cries from inside.
A darkness that thirsts for those metallic tears,
Craving a taste for our innocence and deep essence.
As we become Landlords,
To the band of demons who are now our tenants,
That club together, to break our hearts.
Bury our diamonds with their spades.
Because that's the hands we were dealt.
Sadly, our thoughts make it that way.
But let’s take a rain check,
As we reshuffle the deck.
We can clean these dirty hands.
And start a fresh.
These cards maybe touched by darkness.
But we can still see their true value,
Their suit.
Which suits me just fine.
Where there is dark there is light.
In the storm of our mind,
Hope is that silver line.
Stars remind us of this constant fight.
As they pierce their way through the dark of night.
Like fragmented pieces of broken glass.
Or sparkling glowing ninja stars that barely last.
That is the battle for all of us.
We're both sides of that coin toss.
The dull scratched unreadable heads.
Yet we have shiny bright new, pristine tales ahead of us.
You are not measured by how liquid your wallet is.
Or how many amazing kids.
Or the acres of the land where you live.
Or the amazing job that you did.
It's what you can bring to this world.
And what you can truly give.
Time is the only currency there is,
Spend it wisely,
Because there are no refunds on this.