We live in a world of liars and w***es. Surrounded by landmines full of judgment. Don't make a move. Don't breathe. Just sit there less you want letter shrapnel tearing your soul to bits. Spelling out your death in a eulogy on paper. But let me tell you. Written words make no sound, so they always land on deaf ears. What's that sound? Is it pain or pleasure? None of that matters, it's a scream and you heard it, so be proud. Wrap a bandage on your broken heart and nurse the wound and although the scars will never leave you you can hang them from the sky as a reminder of the day you learned to never fly. To scared to the leave the nest. Too damaged to be the best. You're an underdog. Under dogs is where they hold you. Telling you your story as it unfolds before you like they knew what you been through and it's true some of it is a cliche but myth is based on fact and truth is stranger than fiction so before you let them put pen to paper and reason you to cut a hole in your own boat remember hope floats even in a mote in a castle surrounding the shining love you thought was the sun but were reminded in the end your still stuck, no luck. Is it just you? Are there others like me that see the scars too? The kind you see in your dreams although you prevent a scream somehow you can still hear the ones you didn't. And over the roar of your fans, you can still hear your heart beating. But how can this be life? Standing in our never ending game of freeze tag surrounded by weapons of mass delusion the confusion grows so strong you think you'll lose it so you start to booze it, and in seconds of frozen frames you can hear your name and realize its you pulling yourself in from the rain. And for nights you sat by the fire stoking it with your hopes, dreams and wildest desires. Careful not to inhale the smoke, you might see through the fog and open your eyes to the disguise you've been taught to prize and as the fire dims you feel a tinge of fear, afraid of what the dark may hold and the horrors near. One last thing to throw on the fire but as it catches your eyes you feel your train of thought lapse. Although it may seem your life is a quilt of tattered mishaps, be aware of the strength of your material. So you let the fire die, threw the window wide, and felt the warmth of rays of light. That one thing was hope, and with it the darkness holds nothing but a portion of light unexplored.