*Continued and completed after closing night of the Fall plays.*
Is it how I don't bleed?
When I'm stabbed.
It's how I rise.
When you push me down.
How I can't help,
But to be more than I ever could be.
//
It's not real to be real
Not honorable in truth,
And false in trying to be yourself.
//
The people beside you,
Are not there.
The breath you take,
Is not true.
The girl I love,
Isn't one I can live with.
//
It's an annoyance
To not know yourself.
It's a bother
When nothing seems real.
It's a curse
To live, and not feel alive.
//
I am bold, strong, brave, and amazing.
But I am small, weak, cowardly, and disgusting beyond compare.
//
I am that great person,
That you read about in books,
That you hear about from your friends,
That you see walking down the hall,
That you have come to know as friend.
But no one knows me.
//
Cultivation of anger, sorrow, and fate.
Brings me here.
To a wall of protection.
My fortitude, and my escape.
The only thing that keeps me standing.
//
I lived wise and died foolish.
I reached my best and was alone.
Reborn is the time we walked separately.
//
Upon the hill,
Is a figure of content sadness.
Doing the journey twice.
Flames in the sky
And a bird.
Flames in the sky
And a bird.
//
Broken strength tied to my past,
Greatness in youth,
Future is both strong
And overflowing fulfillment
With people.
//
Immortality lost
My hand
Covered in tears
Illumination of the sky.
-Milton
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