Okay, I've never posted in this section of Iwaku before, but I do however write. A lot. So... I'll post songs and poetry on this thread. This first one is a song, and it's kind of short. SAVIOR There's an empty soul behind these eyes That have seen too little Too much I can see you hurting, now I'd do anything to keep you From hitting the ground CH: I've spent my life Living in the shadow Nobody noticed, Nobody cared. I'm saving you But how can I save myself? - Can't we just rewind, And break the hourglass that binds us here? Back to when we smiled When someone cared. I can numb you pain for you- I'll be your friend (Your savior) (CH) We could escape Just for awhile I'll hide my pain I'll carry yours. We could leave this masquerade of a world Destroy our masks and wander free. And I've spent my life Surviving by the skin of my teeth Keep quiet, now... If you're here Could you be saving me? (CH) This next one is a poem I recently wrote (And won a contest in my hometown with! Yays!) Discombobulated Life The bitter desperation of death by GPS coupled with the icy first breath of air after chewing gum. The thrill of secretly hiding song lyrics between the creases of everyday conversation, And the velvet dreams of being tangled in your arms… I am the glue that holds the world’s revelations together, But not before rearranging them into incoherent mysteries and trivial sound bytes. In my dreams I faced death for an undisclosed crime. Leave it to the romanticists to say that even the homeless have a kingdom to their own- For years the realizations has become more and more painful, That my wild imagination has become a surrogate for social interaction. More than satisfactory, you are golden; A hologram that keeps my head up, A whim that carves confessions into library cuticles, The most endearing smile. Why do I laugh as I embrace madness? You are a face I could get used to- Yet your burgundy thoughts are serene, already asleep in my bed. So imagine my shock when I discovered that even sleep couldn’t erase the bags under my eyes. They grace my lashes with sly smiles, laying testament to late night reads. The occasional magazine line dictates my life; “Happiness is a byproduct, not a pursuit.” I scratch poems into the bedroom wall and conceal them with ponderous furniture. A hiccup of misfortune sent me sprawled across the floor, In search of better places to hide my secrets, Hula hooping in virtuous circles, And in vicious circles, too. My ankles have been sprained a thousand times from toeing the line, Always rushing to serve others- Tonight, I invite my guests to cook the dinner.