So, I wrote a "song" (of sorts)...

So in these hard times, I have turned to music, specifically song writing to cope. It's kind of kicking it up a notch from my standard poetry.

I wrote this one last night and it's about being torn apart by the people you love, as well as wanting to escape from dependance. 

I haven't figured out the actual music to accompany it, but I hope to find someone with a musically-talented disposition to help me out with that. My idea is to go the hard rock/metal genre with hints of classical. 

So, tell me what you think....

Let Me (Breathe)

Saturday, November 30, 2013

Tears, Fears, Pain

Deception to those around 

Nothing to gain

My wrists are merely bound

Let me fall, let the freight train hit me. 

Let me feel pain I need to feel. 

Let me make the decisions I need to make. 

Let me breathe

The confinement of dependance

The torture of love

The prison of independence 

Let me fall, let the freight train hit me. 

Let me feel pain I need to feel. 

Let me make the decisions I need to make. 

Let me breathe

Needing my space

Needing my time

Away from everything

Let me commit the crime

My pain

By love 

My love 

Please catch me

Before…I….hit the ground

(X2) Let me fall, let the freight train hit me. 

Let me feel pain I need to feel. 

Let me make the decisions I need to make. 

Let me breathe

(X4) Let me breathe

Black Billows

Just a piece I wrote for one of my classes...

Black billows surround her once innocent mind. Fueled by fear, feeding off anxieties and spewing out hopelessness and despair out of her very soul. An innermost darkness fills the very being that has the misfortune of being consumed. The world is black and grey, no other colour of the spectrum in sight. Pebbles gradually gather up the mountain until the weight is just too much to bear. Pebble mountain, of triggers and stressors which rapidly transform into Mount Everest of turmoil. Her mind snaps like a brittle twig and the pebbles come tumbling down, crushing her body and soul. Pointy spikes of cold metal pierce into her wrists as pitches of wailing whispers deface her soul. Swift spirits coil around her, slowly squeezing the very life out of her. Virtuous butterflies soon transform into ravenous snakes, filled with toxic acrimony, longing for blood. The aroma of ferrous oxide fills her nostrils as tints of red liquescent (liquid) drip slowly down the lack of flesh still remaining on her. Cold is all she feels, deadness in her very soul.