MaxTachin

In the Summer, The trees burn Bright, And show me how lovely life can Be...

Rhyming ain't your style, kid Remember that when your time comes You'll know the time It will be when you sing to the Gods And help others to smile When you dance with the Moon And hold the stars in your hand When your poetry comes out smooth Like water Quick Like lightning And Loud Like thunder A cosmic display of lights and sounds Coming from your lips And hitting the eardrum like a comet You'll know when your time comes I'll be there smiling down on you Proud,

Little did we know That what we'd done to help someone Could hurt us like this? Little did we know That how we've helped Had fueled the fire to burn the world Little did we know That how we've hurt Had caused more than that scratch we saw Little did we know That while we focused on the final battle The next war had only begun Now that we know We realize that even that is little And our final war is still to come And so little we did know But the fires will keep burning And our children would have to put them out Or burn trying But even so Did we really know How little we knew? And in the end Was it enough?

A night without a wish is like A dream without a star A star without a gleam is like A moon without a beam A beam without a ray is like A night without day A day without a sun is like A love without someone Someone without a soul is like A man without a goal A goal without a fighter Is like a poem without a writer

Who in hell would've thought today could've been so painful. All the memories keep coming back in waves... I just want to give up. But as always, I fall asleep, wake up the next morning, I go to a new town and life goes on. It started out innocently enough, always does. I had gotten directions to the nearest town from a woodsman on his way to work, the town being Castle Town. One of the biggest cities on the river. It was surprising how little people were living outside its walls; I've seen cities with buildings jam packed 10 miles outside its actual borders. I've seen a lot of things. But anyway. Through the leaves I noticed the overcast

I wonder what it’s like To be a dreamer. To think, To hope, To love, To want such beautiful things, And then, in the end, have it all Taken away. How do you feel at night, dreamer? Do you cry? Do you scream? Do you regret? Will you stand up again, dreamer? You seem down-hearted, depressed. Did you wake up? Tell me, What does reality look like, taste like, feel like? Is it dull? Is it bland? Is it painful? Isn’t it dreadful, vain litte dreamer? Don’t you wish to be numb like me? Wish to be indifferent? Wish to be empty? Wish to be nothing? Don’t cry anymore, little dreamer. It’s one of those p