Unthankful

A fight with words again,
words of hope aren’t meant to be,
to feed the pain again,
because I can’t really be.

When I want heaven to be here,
I get told that its impossible.

I should be thankful for what I have,
I didn’t get what I wanted for so long.

It is a sick game if you ask me,
I wanted to die for so long.

I can’t even write that well,
just in sorrow I dwell.

And when I think that my hope is real,
it is just what I seem to feel.

It is no wonder that I want to die,
when there is just so much to cry.

When I was numb, at least I didn’t feel the pain,
now it is driving me always insane.

When I think I know what I am fighting for,
I get told it is wrong and that I should do more.

Well, I guess I was too good for this world,
I was too selfish to believe.

I thought that one day we could all be united,
but I guess if so, I wouldn’t be invited.

I take the blame, I take the hate,
because that’s what I wanted, it is my fate.

Back to hell we go – I guess,
because heaven’s to shiny for me and my mess.
While I thought I might be able to see,
what humans look like when they are free.

Stupid ideas, stupid hopes and dreams,
should have replaced them with rapid screams,
maybe at least one dream could have been real,
to be locked away, not able to feel.

Just torture, pain and more and more,
because that’s what I am living for.

Not for hope, for happiness and life,
not to get out, not to survive,
I was made to feel all the pain,
to make it thunder and rain.

And I know… I know it is different.

I know this and that.

I know too many things and sadly they all make sense.

But instead of doing and building defense,
I still act like a kid, the kid that I am.

Wow, could speak with 6 months.

Wow, could do so many things before school.

Must have been cool, must be a cool.

More like a fool, just like fool.

You get smart to learn you are worthless,
you get smart to learn you are fearless,
and for what reason, if only hell awaits?

You get smart to get over it all and see that there is so much light because you always had it, just forgot about it willingly because you wanted to die.

It’s silly, but what does it help.

The energy to fight is hard to get and because I might be just a loser, someone who doesn’t get money and work, what for am I fighting?

Only to get more pain, to live longer, so death will be even more like a present?

I know it isn’t, when I have hope. But there is no hope where I am living.
There is no life where I am living.

But I should be grateful, should be thankful.

Could be even worse. I know.

And God knows, I would give my life for someone who has it harder than me. But it never happened.

So at least I was there to give some people hope, I guess…

But in the end I am still a mess. All my self-therapy and care…

What for? It clearly wasn’t for me because I always knew that I would never be able to live in this world. I knew I would die either way.

I know I am not fighting for myself, it was for others like me.
But if it ain’t real, if it can’t be won. What am I fighting for?

Only to give people hope to live longer in this broken world?

To take longer to realize that it is all hopeless and pointless?

I know that I wasn’t born for this. But maybe that is just what I always miss. That I always thought I was there to give hope,
but instead I should have been just dead,
so all could just cope.

I know why I am writing this, I know why I am feeling this, I know that there actually is hope, but all I want is to die anyways.

I should be thankful because I was given the chance to actually do what I want, but I guess I was the problem after all.

I was meant to shine only to fall. And then one day end up on a tree or under a bridge.

I wasn’t born for this, I know I am stronger than this, but I guess that I might never really wanted to die so badly.

If I can’t show them the good of me, why they should give me space and let me be. I might just let it finally end and therefor be free.

Nothing really is there to tell, whether there is heaven or hell.

I believe that in some form they do, but what is the clue?

If you live to die, live to cry, live to work and obey.
Then I am out of here.

Because I know there are so many better ways.
But I guess it is pointless what one prays,
if what I pray for is impossible.

Be it my soon death, be it a better world, be it to give hope to make it real.

I used to see the good things, I still do, just today I did. But what for, if in the end I get always told that on this earth it will never be good.

So why am I here? I knew I wouldn’t be able to work like the others.

I knew that I wouldn’t be able to live like the others.

Why did I still not die? Well, I once thought, when I get out of my resignation, maybe someone greets me and tells me that finally there is a chance for me to be. But I think I even got this one, probably different, but I got it in a way. And now I am again just complaining.

So if it would be for that, then I am meant to be dead.

I know I wasn’t like this when I was a kid, my parents made me this way.

School made me this way.

People did.

I was full of hope, joy, care for others, the will to actually help. I did help with action. But around me things tend to break, and after all the world is just fake.

So I guess, my hope was never really wanted.

They all wanted to die and cry forever and so do I.

God, why can’t I just die…

I know why – death doesn’t want me yet.
Maybe I have to face death again and have a few words.

Maybe a cup of tea and some rice. And smell the dark burning taste of my fellow death again. My friend in times of sorrow. Giving me hope, so I could die sooner. A good friend, who listens to it all and doesn’t tell me its wrong.

A friend who gives me space and love, for what he wants is my soul. And I would give it, of course my dear friend, but I guess I am not allowed.

Maybe a tea, a tea and some time together, to watch the night sky and the weather. My fellow death, when can we be together forever?

Maybe soon, maybe never?

I have too many friends, the angels, be they flying or fallen, the demons, death and God. The cats and foxes, the bats and deer. Even Jesus for all these years, the best of them all. But death is just one you really have to unravel. A mysterious one. Sometimes a woman, sometimes a man, sometimes a ghost, or a shapeless fan. Of all these beautiful people, so he can’t wait to take ’em away. For what do we pray, for what do I pray?

Is it heaven or hell, is it doom or peace? Maybe none of it, just gone and forever gone. Away with my friend with the hoddie and scythe, if he would ask me, I wouldn’t bite. But we are friends, so after all, I guess it’s not my call.

Why do I love to write so sureal? What can’t I be just more real?

I guess I never was, I never really was here after all.

There is just this body, this cage this wall.

It is all in there and just can’t get out, whether I scream or I shout.

All what comes out hasn’t been much up until now.

This is not true, but for the first time people actually listen.

For the first time it isn’t just me talking with myself.

But I know, that I will end up crazy anyways, I always was and will be.

I know its not true, but that was my deepest wish when I was young.

I had death, I had crazy and then all this useless dreams. So I wanted crazy, I wanted to be seen this way, called this way and up this way. To torture myself, to make myself feel good about all the pain and nonsense. So that I could tell myself that all I found out was just crazy as well.

Why was i given a warriors will?

Why was I given a heart out of gold?

Why was I sent here, just to be ill?

Why have I my soul, why isn’t it sold?

Like most people did, nothing to hold?

I gave my soul for good,
wanted trees our of wood,
wanted heart full of hope,
and instead its just dope.

Maybe I wasted it all for nothing at all.

I should have taken the chance, when death gave me call.

But I thought I had to save the world.

How silly, how dumb. All there is for me is death.

My fellow friends. I should have been more thankful.

Did he gave me so much hope and joy along the way.

Jesus was the one who showed me I was right,

People showed that I was wrong.

And death just greeted me always so kind,
Sometimes even sneaked up from behind,
Just with a soft touch and lovely pain,
like cold wind and heavy rain.

Death my buddy, what have I done?
Why didn’t you take me, why are you gone?

Jesus is out there and doesn’t want me to go,
but I am a burden, my worth is to low.

Death knows that I am priceless, at least.
Doesn’t want me do die yet, not feed to the beast.

Death my buddy, why does it take so long?
Wasn’t I nice, what did I wrong?
Should I have give more time to your voice?
Wasn’t it all not my will and my choice?

I thought we were pals, like brothers in arms?
when one is cold, the other still warms.

Jesus met you once and then he lived again.

But I guess for me this is not the plan.

So why couldn’t we two just get over with,
and being together, instead of trying to live?

I know, I know…

Plenty of reasons to live.
Plenty of reasons to give,
Plenty of reasons for everything.

But my hope wasn’t wanted.

My ideas to sureal.

What I have seen not able to share,
so why should the see, why should they care?

I didn’t mean to give hope, where none was intended.

I didn’t want to play nice, my smile just pretended.

Maybe I should accept that the best is not meant for me.
No parties, no money, no fame.

I never wanted it, never needed it. But maybe with it I could have died earlier. And instead the more I want to die, the more I live.

But only because death first wants me to shine so that I can give him light, when the power is out again, down where he lives.

I never really met him in person my buddy death, never really spoke a word, but I know that if I could, I would.

Death just wants to live as well, to watch the stars and dwell.

Jesus and him maybe had a good time.

I know, I know… it is all just lame.

I can’t really write, only weird, strange and broken.

And I know that I am unthankful.

I should be thankful for the hell because at least I am living it, the hell of my life. To give hope in hell, for those who dwell.

But then I know it isn’t always like this. This year shows it. Some moments in the past. But time is fast, doesn’t last.

Maybe my wish comes true pretty soon, the better world, death, the nut house, the moon?

You never know, what’s next in the show.

The world as a play, and we all have to pay.

Death pays it for me, takes others who pay. Just to see me shine, to see my story develop. What a friend, what a kind soul. Maybe death is the love of my life, my future wife. A word for a point in time, so much more then just end.

Love, joy, friendship and stories.

Death has so much to tell if you give him your time.
Just wants to make you feel good and cheer you up.
Many want to fight him, fight her, fight it, the point in time.
But not realizing along time ago they already have give up.

Died in the arms of death already,
keeping it running, keeping it steady.

Sorry… Take care and stay strong… for the hope which might come.

Till next time… if death still wants me to stay.