A Thought

I like to think that I would never be able to take my own life.
But would I take death if it came to me?

If I fell into the ocean,
Would I fight to stay afloat?
Or, would I smile to myself and close my eyes,
As I slowly faded away?

Remake Me

I wish to be new,
So remake me.

Mold me.
Shape me.
Change me.

It's what I asked for, isn't it?
So you will do just that.

But you don't mold me,
You break me.
I want to be broken,
So shake me.

Shake me until I drop to the floor,
Then take me,

And remake me.

Rusted Crown

You sit atop your jagged throne,
Above your blackened hill,
Adjusting your rusted crown,
Gained from your twisted will.

Your kingdom crumbles below your feet,
Away your glorious wealth.
Replaced by only lies and tricks.
Are you happy with yourself?


I want to be liberated.
Freed from the sounds.
All this noise.

From the beating of the drums,
The blaring of the horns,
From the marching on.

Liberate me from the pain,
The thumping of our feet on the hard concrete,
Over and over in this endless marching routine.

We've never stopped,
Never even began.
The parade has simply existed.

As we march to our deaths,
Or an infinity of steps,
I wonder which is worse.

Perhaps death is the better option,
But this is not what I wish for.
All I ask,
Is to be liberated.

So will I be?