Was watching an episode of House,where Chase' father came for a "convention",when really he had stage 4 lung cancer,had 3 months to live and wanted to spend time with his unforgiving son.Very emo,too bad i've no idea how it feels like to be in that position-anyways,it inspired me to write a poem.My poetry skills are unimpressive,but i'll try my best to try illustrate the pain i'm feeling towards some things through words.

This graveyard of impossible dreams,
where love and passion lie bleeding on the floor,
excited vains spitting out violent rivers,
and the red flows onto a colourless city,
and as they pass the darkened buildings,
they light them up to brighten such empty nights,
these tall buildings with red lanterns and blinking neons,
are the ones who live inside,
we are but mere ornaments to this world,
suffering in trying to articulate what we feel,
the questions that bring such turmoil,
can't you see the answers-
in the vicious flow of these waters,
in which clarity hides,
we run an endless race to nowhere,
so angry and filled with sorrow,
and our tears,
are the small streams that find their way,
to the vast red ocean.

Yes,i'm sorry for that headache that's starting to buzz up in your head-sometimes even when i read what i write i don't get it,but i understand what's written between the lines.The essence.The meaning.The life not in the words,but the confusing picture they try to paint.Anyhows,i should send it to a psych and get it analysed-till then,enjoy the great poetry that is life:)

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