Pleasure

A sense of total disillusion
neglected by the sweet taste
of passion, love and depression
a dark corner look like a mansion
any place looks so much better
without the sense of waste
taste, waste, haste
to find a space
without the pressure in the chest
only with pleasure
can you show me the path?

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Scion

You played that role for years
abusing the good will of the others
fake smile and cold hug
how do you dare call them “brothers”?
spilling your venom thru their ears
turning to gray a life full of colours
you made this game a drug
and your addiction made you the lion
without a kingdom to rule, scion

Typical

Atypical, like the lines below
my mind fly away from this place
pain still hard to swallow
wounds inside my mind screams so loud
that even that I have a key, I can’t open this cage
but my heart can help my mind, and above that heavy cloud
I can find a warm sun, a peace that I can’t describe
but, it’s sad to admit, it’s like hide-and-seek
sometimes, this place it’s so easy to find
sometimes, no matter how hard I try
it’s like a war of ideas, a fall of ideals
but, it’s just a normal minute of my typical day

Illusion of Relief

Why so much confusion
about the deepest fears
about the illusion of relief
under our fake smile, only depression
even the warm sun can’t make these black clouds disappear
sound so familiar this kind of confession
you can read this lines
in a thousand profiles
around the globe, around your neigbourhood
sad to see, even more to listen
“it’s just a phase, it’s just a bad moment”
cuts, tears, suicide letters,
a lot made just to ask for help
forgotten, because this kind of behavior
don’t look so well…

Guilty by

I’ll accuse myself
guilty by the pleasure
of being sad, mad, stand
in the same place that you can find
a paper, ink,
letters about dreams and nightmares
sketches about me and a perfect place
where pain doesn’t exist
God, the real one
don’t need to think about punishment
and us don’t need to pray and live in constant lament
about the maleficant
moment that God look down and choose one of us
to prove his existence
excuse, excuse
I’m realy sorry, but this place
have no meaning to exist
and even if could
you would not be invited, sinner like you are
this place would burn faster than a simple blink

Ugly Sketch

We love each other with indifference
living in glorious decadence
always waiting the moment of blessed ignorance
that will save us all from the apocalyptic moment
lament, sure a moment of lament
when we discover that paradise it’s just a poectic freedom
from someone with a little more wisdom
that use pretty words to describe
something that we never will reach, never can find
but, where is it? Hided?
No, just to much far from this sick reality
that we built with shallow dreams, small talk
attempt to betray every moment, every single opportunity
to make us look like a ugly sketch of something bad
sad, realy sad