Scribbles, Part Three.Now I lay me down to sleep,I pray the Lord my soul to take,Before this pain my body keepsShall tear my skin, my life to break.
Letter to a Hurting FriendYour smile shows no signOf the pain your soul conceals.Your eyes, however,Tell of your painful story.I wish you comfort for now.
Scribbles, Part TwoA stone angel stands alone,Her feathered wings; Broken, gone.A single drop escapes an eye,To run down a cheek, then dry.
Scribbles, Part OneSomething caught beneath the wind,A fragile soul, the world to win.Joy, compassion, freedom, love;Given from the ones above.
MusicMusic is a disasterous beast.Tearing at your eardrums with bass' hard, mellow beatsThe genres of rock and metalPounding in your head and mindHarsh words alongside a threatening melodyYet it can be gentle as a feather, harmoniousTunes, rythms, rhymes, and melodiesSpilled among fresh-cut lines and notesThe differences, sullen and full of retributionAre clear:From the melodious pitchTo the ear-busting screechesEither can be comforting;Depending on simple moodAnd a darker personality.