Writing is truly a magical expierence, you dont need ears or sight, you just need your soul bare and exposed, I was 15 when i finally decided to bare my emotions though raw and intense this was my release for the longest time, when i would be troubled, alone, sad, angry, and even happy. Writing is a form of mysticism and that is what i enjoy most.
Let his breathe be the ocean
So vast and beautiful
Let the air that he breathes
be the air on my earth
...
A silent hill
Alone with two towers
A Knight in his armor
With lovely magical powers
...
There is a window
That I wish I could see
It resembles Imagery of the mother
I wish you could be
...
When you were pushed up in life
I got pushed to the shadows
Don’t think you remember me
I’m the one that always came last
...
A dark mass arisen as this climber abounds
Shadowed, red, earth unveils itself around
Depression comes to fruition
A damaged soul is found
...