Poems, Stories, And Unorganized Messes

...

No one can outrun the wicked.
All the fangs and talons,
Are broken or crooked.
The swords and daggers of broken hearts,
Are merely decks of cards,
And the feeble castles come crashing down...

Scripts and writings of daydreams,
Expectations from the past.
Misheard pleas and immoral deeds,
Never meant to last.

Screenwrites of passing hopes,
A place to get me by,
Collaborating corner stones,
And praying to the sky.

When will dreams become reality?
When will truth be the story that's told?
I wonder if thoughts thought by young,
Are accepted by the cold?

Because broken hearts are chess pieces,
We use to play the game.
Kings and queens are falling down,
While Rooks rise up to fame.
In only one direction,
Can we travel in the snow,
If that's the only direction,
Than in that direction I'll go.