“It's like I've passively seen everything but haven't been anyone “

Playing with words has always been fun

Pages on top of pages, scribbled 

Coherency is impossible to find

Every word is a wild cloud swaying in Pacific tides 

They might be companions with the moon if they let the dark side slide 

But when you live far from the sea for too long

in a jungle of red traffic lights and honking cars

Where every sunset and sunrise is just a cycle and the sidewalk is too small

It comes a time when you can only imagine the big red bridge drowning under tide’s grand jete

Because that might wash the blood away

I saw people dying for their lives 

Tied together, swaying on streets

Tires on fire and screams louder than the gun

It was a fall afternoon after school 

It was a summer evening when I wasn't even 4 feet tall

It has been everyday ever since 

Survivors hanged one by one 

Autumn leaves dancing in the wind

Every time i seeked i order i was faced with repetition of chaos 

If I stop the sun from rising will it all be over? 

Will my words accept the moon's company?

Will the flood wash all the blood away?