Journal

Insomniac's Journal

Words birthed in the internal

His subconscious' dunk-tank

These words remained unranked

Articulate the contemplations

Of these waking frustrations

Pen in hand

Sleep be damned

These are the greatest thoughts in the land

But why do they come at 4 in the morning

Must write them down

And heed the warning

His memory won't serve him as well when he wakes

If only he knew what was at stake

Words, Words, and more still left to come

Cannot stop till he sees the sun

Sunken eyes

Blood shot red

Sleep finally comes to the walking dead

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Hero's Burden

Wanna be a hero?
Then come here with me
One man's death is all I ask
Maybe two
Maybe three

I'll tell you when to stop
Put a price on their heads
And then watch them run
You will become a golden idol
Of the highest order
A god among men
The blood on your hands
Is an insignificant sin

Now that you've made it
Watch for the knife at your throat
And the sword over your head
This is the hero's burden
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