SkyraMatt

Eyelids jump open, pupils blurred, vision slurred Monochrome tendrils of smoke wrap their thin arms Around my body, in the crater, to be found later Cracked and screwed up like another misguided plan

Riddled with guilt, hiding from fate, truth Running to escape, running to survive Dreaming without sleep Awoken by Sunlight split through windows and raindrops Or tears spilt through blackened eyes Only a reminder of home A place no longer welcoming Trying to trust them, but unable But unable to trust myself All I wanted was love The world showed me All I will get is honesty.

if you're feeling ignored, slipped under the floor, just come knock on my door, you won't hurt anymore and if you can't relate, to everyone else's fate, you know you can just wait, it is never to late so know that you have us here, wipe away all those tears, survive for another year, we will all face your fear

And to all my sons I'd tell the story, Of blood, not red, but black, The haste and rush of rodents that scurry, With disease burdened on their back. No one shall say this brutality is glory, Not until years down the track, When my sons shall carry bayonets, And spill their blood so black.

What is this? These fragmented remains, Of something so beautiful, That changed into pain. What are these? These feelings I clutch, This pretense I keep, Memories of your touch. What is it I see? Not your love of me, Perhaps for him. We shall see. What am I? Not much anymore. Not without you.

A boy sitting under a tree, He is just a kid, As once, so were we, Innocent and young, But unlike us, not free. Every night he hears the screams, Coming from down below, As his mind splits its seams, To his fathers merciless beats,  He can no longer have dreams. He wakes up to his mother, Bruised and battered, More under the weather, Than last time,  All he wants to do is duck for cover. In this war, there are no sides, Just sorrow and rage, There is no where to hide, No option for the boy, But to slowly die inside.

The law. It's a part of modern life. Yet nearly always unjust, Always imperfect, putting the wrong people in prison. Recently the law has been wrong about homosexuals. If I can hate someone, why can't I love them? Hate and love are opposites, yet so similar, and i was taught that hate was the bad one.

is this real? am i awake? i'm sorry, i don't remember the light before, was it always so blinding? was it always so strong? was it always so beautiful? i have been sitting in the dark for a while, i guess i think i'm different to before. the colours are all wrong. maybe it's the terrifying surgery, or all the time away from the colour. ah, the surgery, the doctors, all anonymous, of course. they wouldn't want me to know them, after the changes that is. they changed me ma, they changed me. i'm a weapon now. could i cause pain again? could i instill fear again? could i bring destruction? i'm not sure i want to be a weapon,