Once upon a time in a land far away, there was a boy named Jonah. Jonah sat in the shadow of the old oak tree and chuckled quietly to himself. He watched the parade of prancing princesses proceed down to the pond, kiss the poor frog, and then storm angrily away when nothing happened. He chuckled because he knew his best friend in the entire world, Lucas, was having yet another dreadful day. He continued to watch until all the princesses were gone, and the frog sat alone by the edge of the pond. Jonah left his hiding spot and walked down to the pond and sat facing the poor little frog.

“No luck again today I see, Lucas. Just how many princesses are there in the world anyway?” Jonah grinned down at the frog.

“Ribbit.” Said the frog. The frog made a face as close to annoyance as a frog’s face can get.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Jonah said and reached down and touched the frog’s head.

“UGH! Thanks. That’s much better. I still can’t figure out why that only works for you. I can’t even talk to my father or brother. As far as the princesses go, there seems to be an unending supply! I wish one would finally break this spell. I’m sick of being a frog!” The frog darted its head to the side, flicked out its tongue and caught and ate a fly.

“That’s so gross, Lucas!” Jonah pretended to gag but ended up laughing.

“I know, right! But I can’t help it. It seems to be instinct for this body. This curse really sucks!” Lucas groaned.

“Why were you cursed, Luke? We’ve never talked about that. Obviously, I know you are the prince of this kingdom, is that why she cursed you?” Jonah asked.

“Get me out of this pond for a while. Let’s go for a walk, and I’ll tell you.” Lucas said. Jonah reached over and picked up his friend. He set the frog on his left shoulder, stood and walked onto the path into the woods.

Lucas began his story. “Even as a small child, I was a spoiled rotten brat. My dad always told me that I’m meant to lead our glorious kingdom, but all I wanted to do was play and have fun. Book learning and army training were boring. I avoided my duties as often as I could. Then I turned thirteen, and my mind switched from my toys to girls. If I'm honest with you, I didn’t treat the girls any better than I treated my toys. They were princesses who were sent to woo me and win the heart of the crown prince of Lerithia, and I played silly games with their hearts, kissed them once or twice and sent them on their way.“ Lucas blushed, well as much as a frog can be said to blush.

“That just doesn’t sound like the Lucas that I know.” Jonah turned his head, so he was looking at Lucas. “You’ve changed so much. Cut yourself some slack. Hell, maybe being a frog has been good for you.” Jonah snickered.

“Anyway.” Lucas rolled his little froggy eyes at Jonah. “To continue my story, I was mean to a lot of people, especially girls. One night at dinner, this old lady burst into our dining hall and pointed right at me. She shouted at me about how I broke her granddaughter’s heart.” Lucas sighed. “Jonah, I couldn’t even remember what her granddaughter looked like. Anyway, then she drew a wand out of her cloak and pointed it at me. My father’s guards reacted, but not in time. The wand glowed, and she said ‘Shallow Prince with much vanity, like a frog you’ll now be. No cure for you shall they find until True Love’s Kiss clears your mind. If no love finds you before eighteen, you’ll end your days with skin of green.’” Lucas sighed again. “I’m doomed, Jonah. Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday!”

Jonah let out a gasp and sat down on the side of the trail on an old tree stump. “Oh my god, Luke. Why didn’t you say something before? Tomorrow? Is that why your dad has been bringing in even more princesses than usual the last couple of weeks?”

“Yeah. My dad thinks if enough girls kiss me, one will be the right one. Trouble is, I can’t even talk to any of them like I can talk with you. How can I know if it’s true love? Do I want some silly spell to decide my future even if the curse is broken?” Lucas sounded depressed even in his froggy voice.

Jonah wanted so bad to reach out and comfort him, but how do you hug a frog? “What kind of girl would you want it to be if you could choose?” Jonah thought maybe he could get Lucas talking and get his mind off tomorrow.

“Someone kind and caring and compassionate. Someone who listens to me and doesn’t just want to talk about herself and her clothes. Someone… well someone just like you, Jonah. Why can’t you be a beautiful princess?” Lucas laughed.

Now it was Jonah’s turn to blush. “Shut up, Luke. I’m trying to help figure this out for you.” Jonah got back up and started walking back towards the pond. Suddenly, Kings Guards burst through the trees. One scooped Lucas off Jonah’s shoulder, and two more grabbed Jonah by the arms. The one in charge said, “Aha! We’ve found you! How dare you kidnap Prince Lucas. To the dungeon with you!”

Lucas was yelling at the top of his lungs for them to unhand his friend, but all they heard was the ribbiting of a frog. Jonah proclaimed his innocence, but they wouldn’t listen and dragged him off to the castle dungeons. Jonah was yelling, “You don’t understand! He’s my friend! You don’t know what’s going on. You don’t even know who I am!” The guards refused to even talk to him and locked him away in the dungeon.

That night and the next day passed slowly for both Lucas and Jonah. Jonah couldn’t find a way out of the dungeon. No one even came to talk to him. He was concerned and scared for his friend. He wanted to be with him, especially since it was such an important day for Lucas.

Lucas was also worried about Jonah and blamed himself for Jonah getting locked in the dungeon, possibly forever. If he couldn’t break this curse, and talk to his father, there would be no way to convince his dad to free Jonah. So, in hopes of miraculously breaking the curse, instead of running off to be with Jonah, Lucas stayed in his pond and submitted himself to today’s parade of princesses.

Night fell without the curse breaking. The princesses were gone, and the guards were out of sight. Lucas decided that, since he didn’t know if he’d still be able to talk to Jonah after the curse became permanent, he wanted to spend his last few hours before midnight with his best friend. He hopped out of his pond and headed for the tree line. Once in the trees, he hopped as fast as he could towards the castle. Lucas knew precisely where his dad would have locked up Jonah, and Lucas knew how he could get to him. He snuck in, undetected, through the back-kitchen doors when the cooks were bringing the night’s trash out. He stayed hidden amongst the pots and pans and brooms and finally found his chance to sneak into the cellar when a cook left the door open. From the basement, he made his way to the dungeons. He hopped right into Jonah’s cell. Jonah curled tightly into a ball and crying, didn’t see Lucas at first. Lucas hopped over to him. “I’m here, Jonah, I’m here.”

Jonah looked up and saw Lucas was still a frog and started crying even harder. Through his tears, he said, “No luck with the princesses again? I’m so sorry, Luke. I’m just so sorry. If that witch could see you now, maybe she’d undo the spell herself. You’re not a spoiled, arrogant brat anymore. You’re the kindest, sweetest guy I’ve ever met.”

Lucas blushed. “Thanks, Jonah. You’re a pretty great guy yourself.”

“Luke, it's almost midnight. What’s going to happen? Will I still hear you like now?” Jonah asked.

“I don’t know. I hope so, but I just don’t know. I’ve never understood why you’re the only one who hears me anyway.” Lucas said.

Jonah reached down and picked up Lucas. He stared directly into the frog’s eyes. “If this is our last conversation, then I have to say this out loud for you to hear. I love you so much, Luke. More than you know. You’re my best friend in the entire world. I... I think if you were a boy and not a frog that I might love you even more than that.” Jonah blushed a deep, bright red. “You have an amazing soul, Lucas. I’ll love you forever.” He bent down and kissed the frog.

Electricity crackled around the boy, and the frog and a purplish colored smoke swirled around them. When the smoke cleared, Jonah was looking up into the bright, crystal blue eyes of, a now human, Prince Lucas. Lucas brought both hands up and cupped Jonah’s face between his hands. He bent down and kissed Jonah. After he broke the kiss, Lucas smiled and said, “I love you, too, Jonah.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A small army led by the neighboring King entering his lands, interrupted King Samuel’s night of worry over his son Lucas’s predicament. King Samuel personally led a small force out to greet the other king. King Edmond rode out from his army and greeted King Samuel.

“My guards last saw my son, Prince Jonah, entering your kingdom, King Samuel, and he has not returned home. I’ve come looking for him. Have you or any of your people seen him?” Edmond described Jonah to Samuel. One of the King’s Guards spoke up and told his King what had happened at the pond and that he thought Jonah might be that boy. Samuel relayed that information to Edmond with his apologies, and they rode together to the castle.

The two kings walked together into the dungeon, turned the corner, and saw the two boys curled up together, sound asleep in each other’s arms. Both kings were speechless for a moment, and then King Samuel yelled out, “Lucas! You’ve broken the spell! How? Who broke the spell?” Why are you in this cell? Guards, unlock this cell at once!”

The boys, shocked by the sudden intrusion, untangled from each other’s embrace and stood up. Jonah noticed his father standing behind the other king. Lucas spoke first. “Dad!” He ran and hugged his father as soon as the guards opened the cell door. “I hopped in here when I was still a frog. I wanted to spend my last few hours with Jonah. Then, just before midnight, Jonah kissed me and broke the spell!”

Both kings audibly gasped and turned and looked at each other. Samuel looked back at his son. “How do you feel about this son? Do you feel like he is your True Love? The spell said only True Love’s Kiss could break the enchantment.”

Lucas blushed and looked down. “Yes, dad. I’m in love with Jonah, and he’s in love with me. We want to be married. You always told me that whoever broke the enchantment was who I would marry. I couldn’t talk to you, but I heard everything you said to me. I want you to keep your word. I want to marry Jonah.” Lucas told his father that, for the last year, Jonah could hear him, and they talked for hours every evening after the princesses left. He told his father everything.

“Jonah? Son, is this what you want also?” King Edmond asked, stepping forward.

King Samuel stepped aside to let King Edmond to the front. Samuel said to Lucas, “Lucas, this is King Edmond from Garlandia. He is Prince Jonah’s father.”

Lucas’s jaw dropped, and he turned to Jonah. “Prince Jonah? You never told me!”

“It wasn’t and still isn’t the most important thing about me. I love you, not your kingdom and I wanted the same in return. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want it to get in the way of our friendship.” Jonah said.

“It’s fine, Jonah, I definitely understand,” Lucas said.

Jonah turned towards his father. “Dad, to answer your question. Yes. This is what I want. I know I’m just sixteen. I know you planned on me marrying some princess and having lots of babies, but I’ve never wanted those things. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I’m in love with Luke. Like head over heels type in love. The love I still see between you and mom. Please let me have this.” Jonah was looking at his father, but his hands were gripping Lucas’s arm, and he was leaning into the taller boy.

The two kings looked at each other and nodded in silent agreement. King Samuel spoke. “I’ll put the proclamation out to the other kingdoms. The marriage of our sons, the crown princes of Lerithia and Garlandia, will take place one month from today. May fortune smile on you both and upon both our kingdoms.”

Even with both their fathers and a dozen guards right there, Lucas pressed his forehead against Jonah’s and whispered: “I love you.” Jonah leaned in, and they kissed.

“Liiiight, wake uuuup... Light. Light! Come on, I’m getting bored again!”

”...God?”

“Of Death? Yes... Wait, have you forgotten about me already?!”

“Oh, it’s just you.”

″Just me? You would have been nothing without me. Did you at least bring any apples?!”

Light Yagami opened his eyes to known other than a shinigami shaking him awake. Had he been any other mortal soul crossing over to the afterlife, he would have been scared by Ryuk. But to him, this monster was nothing more than the annoying apple-addict who had given him the power to be the New World’s God. And brought him to his untimely death.

Speaking of which--

He sat up, fear overshadowing any other emotion that he had earlier.“Is this... Hell?”

Ryuk let out one of his signature laughs. “Did you also forget one of the most importantly rules of the Death Note? Go ahead and reread it, there’s one in your hand right now... hmm, that was fast of them...”

Confused by what the shinigami was saying (and not enjoying being confused), Light flipped open the book to the page of rules. His suspicions were confirmed as he skimmed the words and caught sight of his vaguely-inhuman hands.

“This is Nothingness, ‘neither Heaven nor Hell’,” he quoted. “and I’m shinigami, aren’t I?”

Of course, the Realm of the Death-Gods and in-between area of the afterlife are the same place. Should have realized that earlier.

“You got it!” Ryuk chuckled once more. “But don’t worry, you don’t look half-bad. Still tall and handsome, only this time in shinigami standards!”

Light stood up, looking around at Nothingness: various bones and lethargic Death-Gods scattered about a dark, barren landscape.

It occurred to Kira that, thankfully, he didn’t have to stay here for long.

“Hey, where’re you going?” Ryuk flew after him. “Trying to find someone? Your dad and L are both in Heaven, so don’t bother.”

Light scowled, slightly envious of L’s new life after death. “The only thing I want to find is a way to the human world.”

“Oh.” Another laugh. “I see where this is going. You’ll just have to ‘lose’ your Death Note, right over that edge there. But don’t expect the others to take this lightly.”

Sure enough, other bored shinigami turned their attention to the newcomer holding his Notebook over the edge of Nothingness, a few snickering.

“And here I thought you would be done with all of this ‘New World’ nonsense.” Ryuk watched as the Death Note fell into the abyss. “Well, at least you have less of a chance of dying... unless the human who finds your Note was as arrogant as you had been.”

Kira shot him a glare, saying nothing.

Just as he was about to make his descent with the Notebook, another familiar, irritating voice called out his name.

“Ooh, that’s right.” Yet another classic Ryuk laugh. “I completely forgot about your girlfriend... you probably did too, huh?”

Misa pushed past the curious bystanders to Light, somehow tackling down his towering frame. “Oh, I got the same idea of going back to the human world! Let’s go together... hmm, you already threw down your Note, though, so we’ll be separated... just try to contact me when you get there!”

Then, just like that, was gone, diving into the void without second thought; a chorus of laughter following her.

Ryuk grinned. “You should probably get going, before some of your other blind followers find you.”

So now I’m on the other side of the story, the one where I simply watch and influence, Light thought as he unfurled his new wings. I get another chance, now as a true God, to create a New World.

As he jumped down to the beginning of his story, he had one last thought:

This time, I won’t mess up. I know what I must do.

How wrong he was.

A murder of crows,

Gathered together

And standing tall,

Ebony feathers gleaming

Even through the murk

They rise one by one,

Slowly, but undoubtedly,

Taking miraculous flight

Alone, destined to fall

Together, even lowly crows

Can fly high in a sapphire sky,

Conquering countless goals,

And achieving dream after dream

Strange. They act the same, yet seem completely different.

My mother, father and brother race to welcome me home. Smiling, laughing. The faces, expressions and mannerisms, exactly as I remember.

I find myself smiling along with them, laughing and hugging and putting on an act of my old self. They seem to buy it.

“What was it like?” My dad asks, when we’re all seated in the living room.

“Did you shoot the bad-guys?” Says my little brother.

“Yeah, sure did,” I find myself saying. We do a fist-pump, like always.

My mother seems a bit more concerned. “Were you ever in danger?”

“Nah,” I lie, as an explosion flashes through my mind, partner blown to pieces. “All the major fighting was over when I got there.”

I’ve lost track of how many I’ve killed.

“Good,” she sighs. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Everything back to normal.”

They smile and hug me.

Later, night terrors wake me up at two a.m. in a cold sweat. I bolt up silently in bed, mind screaming.

Don’t make a sound. I don’t want them to know.

Instead, I get up and pad over to my mirror. Look at the person staring back at me.

Same hair. Same face. Same everything.

But that person looks like a stranger to me, now.

How can I feel so different on the inside, but still look the same outside?

Do I even see it in my eyes?

Yes. That is the one place I see it. Cold and dead. The life drained out of them.

I’m the same, but different.

A familiar stranger.

I’ve lost myself, even though he is standing right in front of me.

***

You won!

I remember that day so well.

Free plastic surgery. Transform your body!

Lose the overly large nose? The too wide hips? The flabby arms? Who would say no?

“You look amazing!” my friend said, the first time she saw me. “I can’t believe it. You look like a different person. I didn’t even recognize you!”

“I know, right!” I said, and we high-fived each other just like always.

But now, on our first shopping trip in my new body, something seems different.

“How does it look?” I ask her, spinning around in a perfectly-fitted dress.

“Fine,” she grumbles, and stomps off to look at shoes.

What did I say?

“What’s wrong?” I ask her, as we walk out the shop, me in my new dress.

“Heyyy, can I get your number?” A man calls out to me.

I pause, stunned. No guy has ever done that to me.

“Keep walking,” my friend says, pulling me along. “Guys like that aren’t worth it.”

Still, I couldn’t help but be stupidly flattered.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” my friend says, as we continue walking and I try not to look back. “You just seem…different.”

“But, I’m the same as I always was.” We’d been laughing together, telling the same stupid, tired jokes.

“I know,” she says. “But it still feels like I’m walking with a stranger.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. Was my friend really that…. shallow?

Our epic shopping trip is cut short and I end up going home early.

Alone, I examine myself in my new dress, spinning in front the mirror in my room.

And I notice how generic I look. The textbook definition of beauty; perfect symmetry, smooth, unblemished skin, small, non-descript nose, high cheekbones. Nothing unique or intriguing.

Completely contrary to my personality.

How can I look so different on the outside, but still feel the same inside?

I’m like a life-sized doll.

No wonder my friend was turned off.

I’m the same, but different.

A familiar stranger.

I’ve lost myself, even though she is standing right in front of me.

Don’t do it.

The boy froze in his tracks, both palms pancaked to the glass window. The realistic presence of the voice broke the hypnotic trance he’d held over the trinket in the shop’s display. Sneaking a quick glance over each shoulder, Doro dismissed the voice of his conscience and continued fawning over the golden pocket watch, whose insides were exposed. The pristine harmony among the network of microscopic gears made him wonder if God Himself shared a similar perspective when watching the universe of His creation tick. The brilliance of the timepiece’s exterior reminded the boy of the golden fleece so coveted by Jason and his Argonauts.

Thou shalt not covet.

Doro’s heart leapt and he turned in a circle like a dog chasing its own tail. Not one living soul was in close proximity, save for the occasional passerby clickety-clacking down the cobblestone thoroughfare. The voice had become incessant recently, regurgitating the boorish musings of Doro’s Sunday school teacher. At that moment, the boy caught a flashing glimmer out of the corner of his eye. He was convinced the pocket watch itself had winked at him. In the midst of his resolve to make that watch his, by hook or crook, how could Doro have known it had merely been the reflection of the sunlight that had penetrated the thick layer of metallic grey clouds?

Thou shalt not steal.

“Oh, what do you know!?” Doro cried out.

The Maestro may not have seen the crime if his last patient hadn’t cancelled his appointment. But old Signor Tartuccio had fallen victim to yet another bargain. Yesterday’s pastries for half the price. It was a financial steal, but it came at the cost of severe indigestion, and yet old Tartuccio resisted not. There were some mysteries of the mind that could not be explained, not even by therapy with the wisest man in the provincial Italian town. It was only by happenstance that the Maestro had been free during what would’ve been his last hour of administering therapy. From his office window on the third floor, the Maestro had watched his son play the thief yet again.

You mustn’t feel ashamed. You’re not the guilty one.

“If not I, who is? A father must mold his children.”

Doro isn’t a child, Maestro.

“He’s still a boy!”

You were younger than he when you came to wisdom.

The Maestro removed his small bifocals and gingerly rubbed the bridge of his nose, reflecting the accuracy of the last statement.

“Do you suppose nature can teach what nurture could not?”

The decision is his, Signore. Give him the opportunity to prove himself.

“And if he lies yet again?”

He’ll have the Angel to answer to.

A chill seized the Maestro’s heart in its icy grip. He remembered his own encounter with the Angel all those years ago. The Maestro shed one furtive tear, wishing he had more faith in his boy to tell the truth.

Doro ran.

The boy whistled through the town at a full sprint, past the corps of fir sentinels and into the heart of the Forbidden Forest. The path once marked by compact wood chips soon became unkempt potpourri made of mud, roots, and pine needles. Then, Doro ran some more. When his lungs felt like sacks of burning coal, the boy fell to his knees and flung his hands above his head. The sun had gone down hours ago and without its guidance, Doro couldn’t find his grandfather’s cottage. The boy had loved his grandfather, a jolly old man that had never made Doro feel like a stupid child, the way Papa did. The so-called Maestro of Piombino.

You shouldn’t have lied. You shouldn’t have stolen.

The boy jumped to his feet, suddenly aware of every inch of distance he had put between himself and his home. Despite the attempt to pass the voice off as a figment of his imagination, Doro couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Who are you?!” he yelled. “What do you want?!”

The towering trees bounced his voice between them until the reverberations boomeranged back to him.

To guide you.

“I don’t need guiding! I don’t need anyone’s help!”

Everyone needs help from time to time.

“Oh, what do you know? I don’t have to listen to you.”

Suddenly, a radiant white light illuminated the forest like a bolt of lightning from the hands of Jupiter. Doro clutched his eyes, temporarily blinded by the flash’s brilliance.

“Come, Ronzio,” said a pleasant female voice. “You’ve done well to try, but your work is done here.”

Doro felt a slight tickle from behind his right ear. When the boy finally opened his eyes, he saw a large bumblebee floating towards a blue aura. He touched the back of his ear, wondering how he hadn’t noticed an insect of that size crawling on him.

“Who are you?” Doro asked, trying not to let his voice tremble.

“Different things to different people,” the female voice replied. The source of the sound seemed to be coming from the center of the blue aura. “Some consider me a fairy, while others call me a witch. Still, others call me an angel.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to know what you want, Doro.”

The boy wondered what reply would secure his safe passage.

“I want what all little boys want.”

“Not to be treated like a little boy?” the aura offered.

“That’s right!”

He covets the possessions of others.

The bumblebee flitted around Doro’s head.

“What’s that?!” the boy cried out.

“Your conscience, Doro,” the aura replied. “It’s a voice you should’ve listened to a bit more frequently. Perhaps then, you’d behave in a manner fitting of a man. Good men don’t envy what others have. Good men don’t steal what doesn’t belong to them. Good men don’t lie about the wrongs they’ve committed.”

“It’s just a watch!” Doro yelled back, wondering how this mysterious entity could know the details of his recent whereabouts.

“There is a string that connects everything in existence, Doro. You didn’t only rob Signor Collodi of a prized antique, but of the good he’d do with the proceeds of its future sale. Do you understand? Everything is connected. And this isn't the first object you've stolen, is it?”

“Oh, what do you know?!” Doro screamed. “You’re just like Papa. I’m not bad because I take things! The world is for the people who take what they can get. That’s what everybody does. Take, take, take! It’s the only way to change your stars.”

“Your Papa is a wise man,” the blue aura told the boy. “But he wasn’t always the Maestro. He learned the ways of the world at his own expense and grew as a result. You could benefit from his experience, but you don’t respond to instruction, Doro. You upset the world’s balance when you act so rashly, and you’ve been given so many chances to mend your ways.”

“See this?” Doro said, raising both arms above his heads. “No strings on me. I can do what I want!”

“Perhaps that needs to change.”

You mustn’t feel ashamed. This isn’t your fault.

Through misty eyes, the Maestro looked at the insect on the windowsill and offered the cricket his palm. For years now, the Maestro began his day with a walk across the cobblestone street that led to Signor Collodi’s shop window. Despite the desperate pleas of his conscience, the old man felt he deserved the heartbroken pangs in his chest every day he cast his eyes to the lifeless marionette suspended by strings, frozen mid-dance.

The Labyrinth

From the yawning dawn,

to the blackness before sleep;

mankind weaves his web.

No greater maze is built,

than the one we create for ourselves;

it is called: routine.

Caught up in this convoluted mess,

we all believe we deserve something better,

but we go about our business,

doing the same things, the same way.

The complexity, the sheer irony;

we were taught as children one way,

hoping as we grew, something would be different.

We cannot live without the basics:

food, shelter, clothes, a job.

But what of the future?

We are all trapped into one way of thinking,

“… it can’t happen to me.”

Guess what?

The winters are longer … summer’s shorter.

The whales are dying.

The ozone-layer is getting thinner.

Nuclear waste is everywhere.

Lakes, rivers, oceans, all polluted by man.

Crime in the street,

crime in the home.

Right to life, the right to die;

a personal choice for some,

while others have no choice at all.

The hungry stay hungry and die,

the homeless stay homeless and ignored.

Everyone reads the paper, watches the nightly news,

hearing the plight of the forlorn, saying,

“It’s terrible.”

“Something should be done.”

When asked to help, the reply comes out,

“I’m one person, I can’t do it all.”

Life is a vicious circle,

one lifestyle condemning another,

tangled in their own maze;

going nowhere the best way they know how.

Each blistering sunrise,

every crashing sunset,

finds me caught in the midst of dark day,

screaming, clawing at my soul;

searching for a way away from myself,

lost on a road without direction.

… what is there left to choose from?

No different from the rest of the world,

I live in a crusted shell called flesh,

breathing stale air,

waiting out the moments for my changes to come,

but they never do.

I cry invisible tears,

begging for the hour of my death.

… when, I weep, when?

Your entire life,

You've been torn

Trapped between

A fear of the unknown,

And a desire for the end

To approach faster

Now that I'm finally here,

Tell me,

What is it you feel?

Is it overwhelming dread,

Or ardent, inescapable joy?

Well, tell me,

You foolish girl

What is it you feel

In death?

Just Another Song

Words spoken from the very heart,

words that had me fall in love with you,

were words I’ve never before spoken,

but you’re not hear to hear them anymore.

There was that time we laughed,

until tears fell from our eyes.

I remember that day so well,

but you aren’t here to remember with me.

That first night we kissed,

that first moment of sensual bliss,

where the world disappeared

and it was just us,

and it made sense to me,

that our love was destined,

until and beyond eternity.

Those nights I treasure,

and open the memories when alone;

look around at all the empty places,

remembering how we were each other’s home.

There were times when we knew

without a word ever said,

we would be for each other,

with only a simple nod of the head.

Then came the last night we kissed,

that final moment of a dying sigh,

when my world disappeared,

and it was just me.

I’ve carried our love to this very day,

and I will, clean into eternity,

for I know this is just another song,

and one day we’ll be together,

the way it should be,

singing together like before.

Words spoken from the very heart,

words that had me fall in love with you,

were words I’ve never before spoken,

but I want to believe you hear them in my silent dreams.

Disfigured faces, scars and burns

Don't cry and don't speak

Outside is just another world

He has destroyed them

Consumed by rage

Years of suffering

Outside there is a war going on

A cycle of pain an endless misery

Violence 

Hatred

Underneath the skin there is a story

Do not stare at them

They can still see you

Together they will repress their great affliction