Pretty Blue PillsPretty blue pills,
shiny in my palm,
the ticket to my peace,
to my eternal calm.
They're so perfectly round,
and soon they'll be in me.
The closest to perfect
that I'll ever be.
They go down so smooth.
Five, ten, fifteen and twenty.
Soon I'll be gone.
Twenty-five and Thirty.
That should be enough,
but I'll play it safe.
Thirty-five and forty.
Now I have no more to take.
The bottle is empty,
as empty as I feel.
None of this is happening,
too good to be real.
But soon I start to drift
into a dark unknown fog.
Somewhere quite distantly.
I hear a muffled sob.
But I blow it off as fake.
Nobody could possibly care.
I doubt anyone's noticed
that I'm no longer there.
But then I hear my name,
just a distant call.
I feel myself lift higher.
No! I want to fall!
I ignore the voice in earnest,
but it's calling me up, up, up.
Please let me be.
That life was too tough.
I like this fog,
this numbing haze,
free from the ridicule,
from the judging gaze.
But inevitably I come up,
eyes open so slight.
The Power of WordsSave the guns and the blades
your words do more damage than hand grenades
Don't bother poisoning the oceans
your words are destructive verbal potions
Dare to speak the wrong sentence
can lead to a life time of longing repentance
Words are powerful things
when to them value brings
I usually stick with action
more determinable is the reaction
With words you can start Revolt
even send history into a halt
Sometimes I wish I could remove tongue from mouth
Sail away or just head south
Learn to speak with action alone
or at least until I'm wise and grown
Maybe then I could dare to use this destructive force
Possible put this crazy World on a better course
Till that day I will use words in moderation
To Avoid this unstable planet's Detonation.
Life is a work of art.Words- etched into skin,
like dipping pens on parchment,
exploiting crimson ink under frail paper,
painting pictures of untold stories;
the symphonies of emotion,
hidden somewhere between heart and soul.
The joys and pains of life can't be compromised to a children's picture book,
but are expressed by the colourful novels within your mind,
each brush stroke laid onto Life's canvas,
like the eternal mark you leave on Earth after death.
You hold the pencil to your future,
the instrument to your dreams.
You are the artist,
and life is your masterpiece.