Sound Of Madness

I would wake up in the mornings in hell.

A dark, bloody wearhouse

With nothing but the screams of fallen angles and tortured souls.

As i became more awake, the more the dream became real.

The farther i went, the more the pain.

As i take on my life by the fullest,

Icould feel the tention of the silent insults

Coming to me as if a painless pat on the back.

I saw everyone through unnoticably wet eyes.

So wet, almost blind.

Blind.

[Blinded from the light at the end of the tunnel of hell.]

[Blinded from the love that was suppose to be shared].

[Blinded from feeling awake, while i was awake.]

I would waist my days in writing of what i saw, and felt.

Heart breaks and un-friendships.

I was always played as a fool, by everyone.

I would say i was use to it, but i never seemed to be.

It was always new and different, my hell was.

I could just never wrap my finger around the thought of being like this,

How i never thought i would be as a child.

When i was little, i saw money and love and colors.

Always thought i would.

But now, i see death and pain and blood and black.

I hated it.

On the outside i seemed like a happy soul,

Always making jokes and smiling.

But on the inside im screaming and crying

And just banging on the closet door, hoping to find a way out.

Believing i would find a way out someday,

But never knowing when or if that day would come.

There was only one thing in the world that made the hell barable:

[Music.]

I would play a song about pain and it would make me feel like i was flying,

Against a deep, blue sky.

Floating above everything.

The pain, the drama, the love, and the hate.

I was pretty much all i had, but i didnt care for it was all i need.

Helping me learn all i needed to know when there comes a time of happyness.

[Lame, right?]