Thr3

This is, as far and long as I can remember, the first work I've ever written to be completely about me. And it has been hard for me to try to put what I remember of my life into this. So I apologize if it is hard for some to understand or picture in your mind.

 

 

Thr3

By Lucifer

 

 

Bright spot in the world

Could you come even on colder days?

With teardrops on a mother’s face?

 

Thrown you into the swirl

Into an unsure, racist world

Only love held you from evil ways.

Never should you have known so soon hate

 

Gentle hands, they tried to

Hold you down and sooth your wounds

After the infliction from a tortured soul

 

Teardrops fall like rain

As the world starts to fill out with pain

All eyes they cry save for that cold pair

That, hot, stern stare

The wounds you feel at his hands

Angels should never feel such

Cry you never should have done

Was not your fault don’t say that.

…………………

 

 

Poor soul, why so mad

Why’d the world get you so sad

What are those wounds you try to hide?

In the mind, not on your body

What are you afraid people might see?

Lash out not at your Angels

 

They weep for you like Angels do

Don’t you hear them crying?

Don’t you not see them flying?

Angels they should always be aflight

Never mourn on the ground

 

 

Teardrops from them painted you red

Was that all you would let yourself see?

From glasses painted over with blood?

How many drops would stain your soul?

How many days would be darkened by it?

 

Sweet, little mad boy

Were your only friends’ lifeless toys?

Did you not have associates to call comrades?

And who was it you wished to replace your dad?

Stumbled you did in this time

Not your fault, not your crimes

 

Monster you are not

That’s what was told to you

Still anger can cloud your image

Letting your wings wither and rot

Still they see you as one of them

Teardrops fall all the time

Echoing in Silence

 

 

…………………….

 

 

 

Tired man, why worry yourself?

The world cares not for your health

Or do you need to tend to your loved ones

Begging you to care for yourself

Why do they worry themselves to death?

 

See the world, this mad cruel world

Paint the pages with your words

To the tired, sad, and hurt.

Let them read of things of imaginings

Heal the wounds with your works

Help them with your pain and art

 

Angels always deserve a fresh start

That’s what Angel once told me

As she told me the lives of three

Living in one hurt body

Still showing signs of life

 

We all stumble a little

We all lose our way in the life

We all fall down and bruise ourselves

Getting up makes life special

Overcoming our strife

We all stumble a little