What is real?
What is real, true and right?
What I see or think, or like?
One thing is known to all though
The answer differs from soul to soul
You may be wondering then:
"Well, is That true?"
To that question I will answer:
"Depends on what You want..."- and show,
That a rock for one is a pebble to another,
That the definition of the world
Is not a word or sentence,
But a rather
Flexible statement, a living entity.
It may be even you or the whole humanity.
So, to evade any chaos from erupting in you mind,
Lets just simply say, that Reality is a big lie...
Not all dreams come true...
I once had a dream...
A dream that did not happen.
So then I realized,
What if someone else just happened
To have a certain wish,
Which was the opposite of mine,
And his will was much stronger,
Much purer than mine...
So, not all dreams come true.
Does luck or passion matter?
Or maybe both? Or none?
Does wrong perception of reality shatter
The possibility of your wish to possess real matter?
No one knows the answer.
Perhaps that is for the better...
Reality flexes too much.
What is true can always be false.
Though one thing stays untouched:
A dream come true means a thousand lost.
The art of creation.
My brush is sliding across a canvas.
Paint is dripping from its edge.
Colors fading in, dividing
Its surface like a living hedge.
The past and future have collided
Into something I can touch and see.
I have invited life into my creation,
And what shape it'll take is my responsibility.
Will it smile or will it frown?
Will it fill one's heart with hope?
It's all in the hands of the painter.
Only he can see the true picture behind the matter...
Lack of sense.
Shards are raining down. Pouring.
There's nothing, but a frequent warning
From the very heavens. They're letting down a cry
To put out the fires in our lives.
Ground might tremble, shake and shout.
Wind might blow away our love.
However, men still stand and laugh
At all they've witnessed, gained and left.
The shards are still raining and somehow none,
Not a single soul has noticed all the blood....
I WILL NOT GIVE UP!
I stand on the edge
With nothing but pain.
Immense concentration,
Like a venomous fang,
Launching into my system.
Nothing stands in It's way!
On my back I feel pressure,
The growing power to slay!
Give me reason to stop,
I'll listen but not obey.
Vital parts have been triggered,
Every sense blown away.
Under waves of determination
Place me down and watch me wade...
(...to glorious Victory! )
The entities of the night.
I woke up during the night because of some strange noise. Looking closely, I realized how the door was slightly open, letting a faint light enter my room, and a tall, skinny figure was standing there, staring at me with bloodshot eyes, repeatedly whispering : ''...sleep...''.