Post by masterofsteel on Oct 29, 2005 19:47:40 GMT -5
Okay, my first shot at writing something since I have believed myself to have found my true writer. I do not own the song for this, my favorite band does, by the name of Mudvayne. The link to the song can be found below. Here we go!
search.music.yahoo.com/search/?m=all&p=mudvayne&x=0&y=0
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Everything has gone downhill, nothing remains of what was taken for granted. The heart of peace, driven through with a stake. Peace is easy to lose, but near impossible to regain. A select few can see by this, and continue a normal life. Others may seek a way to regain the peace, to take action, become part of the solution. Yet, to a few others, it severs the threads of sanity...
The cold is but cold, yet it seems and feels so constricting, frigid, and crippling, in more way than one. Whether it be the harsh sting of winter, the snap of reality, or the cold memories and emotions coursing through one's mind, all three ways may lead to oblivion. The only difference, is what experiences are had on the way.
Constricting the senses, trapping the harbored contents of the mind into a single place. All force focused into a solid epicenter, these waves will spread, shattering any reflections and joyous memories of one's life, never able to be regained. Each date, anything of importance, relevance, forgotten.
The air is weighed down by a sickening feeling of despair and agony. The aroma is thick with age, affecting anyone around it. This alone, enough to break a fragile mind, lead them to wander, meander through corridors, all ultimately leading to ruin.
This day, above all, will stand out. A last for a distinct soul, driven over the edge. Corrupt by the chaos and cold. Mark off the day, for it will be his last.
"Take me away from this! Leave me be! I don't want this! I don't want in! I'm dying from the inside, set me free! My life is collapsing! I don't want it anymore! Give me release, take this body away!"
His crazed words echoed through the night, like the scream of a dying beast. All that he knew, all that he took for granted, torn away in the blink of an eye. Not wanting to continue on, he wishes for release, to be severed from the reality of the mortal realm, and guided into an afterlife. Everything slowly rotting away, decaying before him. Only can he watch from a sideline while this occurs, completely helpless to detour this path of destiny.
The entire structure of his life, crumbling in the destructive tides of shattered peace. This man, apparently swallowed up by these waves and tides, lost in the destruction of his own establishment of mind. A last action, enough to snap his sanity in two, no longer willing to fight the tide, to regain what has been lost, wanting release from his body, plagued and possessed by eternal chaos and despair.
Past, all of its contents, has found its place, buried deep into a pit of oblivion, soon to possibly be joined by this man. Too deep in, too far to turn back, regretting the choices made, possibility of salvation has been eradicated. One ray of hope shines through the sky, long ago smothered by the ominous clouds of a chaotic wildfire. That ray of hope, being a question. Will God accept this man's peace? Bleached of life, will God pardon him?
His own being thrown into turmoil, settled life ripped out from under his feet. Thoughts of his mind started to derive and ask questions. 'Why can't I enjoy the simple pleasures of life anymore? Why is everything against me? What happened to the times where I could play around, have fun? Why can't I remember any of those times of joy? Maybe they're all buried, deep inside of my misery.'
These memories, the harsh reality of these memories. No longer does he wish to retain and embrace them, but to shatter these reflections like a mirror. Only two options remain in his mind. God will accept him, bestow onto him the gift of release. Or, God will cast him away, forced to live on through this despair, the swirling torrent of pain, which he recognizes as his life. No longer does he wish for it, but begs God to take him away, deliver him from this pain, finally to experience release.
At this point, no longer will he trust in God and Heaven to release him from this living hell, he pledges to take destiny into his own hands. Resistance to these catastrophic changes seems senseless, as suicidal ideas flood into this ravaged mind. Throwing the deities to the wind, not caring for what they deem fit any longer. Should it be the only path, he will crucify his own being. To satisfy these selfish needs, any measures will be taken. To justify his own right, to destiny and fate, to what's waiting for him.
Lock and load, is the path his mind took. Hunting down those who threw him into the endless abyss, and cutting their existence short. Silenced forever, their voices still torment his mind, driving him closer and closer to falling off the edge completely, into a blank void. All of this, too much for him to stand, On the other side, the side past the realm of the living, the time has come for his entrance. Will he accept this offer? Or refuse it, and continue to pass his pain onto others? Simply put, he's coming home.
"They finally fell, I even did it myself. Why doesn't this torment end? When can't I bring myself to accept release? Rid me of this confusion! Take my body, I don't want it anymore! I don't want anything to do with it! Let my soul fly free! Take my body into the grave! Finally, let me ascend to the Heavens!"
This time, the words coming from his mouth do not hint of psychotic paranoia, but of a newly discovered truth. He now knows these mental wounds will never heal, no matter what he may try, whether it be eliminating those who brought him this pain, or throwing all others to the wind, steering away from anyone who would cause these memories to break from their cocoon of misery.
This darkness, cloud of despair and misery, has begun to smother his being, sending him to what could very well be his final few moments on this plane of existence. Yet, even with his realization, he refuses to submit, intent on falling from his own means. One specific memory stuck with him all the way, quite possibly the sole metal strike that struck all of this in motion, like a twisted domino effect.
Those innocents, their material shells, crushed into oblivion, souls soared to the other plain. Yet, existence still held with them past this door of fate, something that this man wished for once he joined them as well. This event, sent him sailing through Purgatory's Bay, a cursed time of agony and distress, said to unearth the most unbearable sensations within a mind, letting them loose to wreak havoc to the unfortunate person. In this case, being this man.
About to end it all, his thoughts drifted back to the time where he believed God would release him. He asked a God for poison, whether it be material or spiritual, to end his torture, to cradle this pain. All of these emotions, scars, and experiences, don't cease to cause him pain at any moment, even within his dreams. He searches his own soul, looking for some answer to why this was all bestowed onto him, and why not someone else.
All around him, under these clouds of perpetual darkness, people drop dead from this chaotic current state of this world. Their last words, the last look in their eyes, their last attempts of grasping onto life for even one more second, etched into his mind forever. Every last one of them, their future lives held in God's hands. How does he reply? He winds up his arm, and hurls them away, halting their existence now and for all eternity.
A decision made, a future to be ended, he has made the ultimate choice. He will cast his own life away, at the same exact place where this chain of despair began. The seemingly twilight glow that this all holds. How it grows as wide as an eye, holsing together for a moment, then fermenting, falling apart into dust. The hate for being alive, rolling to the surface of himself, to every fiber of himself, driving him into a near trance. This will likely making ending his own life less difficult, unless something decides to intervene. Even as the thoughts of release course through his mind, death slowly starts to grip his veins, leading him to realize that this very well may work.
His choice of death over life, unveils the rancid petals inside him, the linings and inner workings of his mind. Casting into this trance, these petals flower forth, releasing the foul nectar known as his demented and psychotic thoughts. Raising a contraption to his head, one last event occurs, as a loud sound crashes through the night. One tear escapes his eye, slowly running down his face. Yet, he never realized it, for in the space between a blink and a tear...
search.music.yahoo.com/search/?m=all&p=mudvayne&x=0&y=0
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Death Blooms
Everything has gone downhill, nothing remains of what was taken for granted. The heart of peace, driven through with a stake. Peace is easy to lose, but near impossible to regain. A select few can see by this, and continue a normal life. Others may seek a way to regain the peace, to take action, become part of the solution. Yet, to a few others, it severs the threads of sanity...
Cold seems crippling
Lame meander through corridors
Aroma's thick with age
Mark off the day
Reflections of my life are fading
Lame meander through corridors
Aroma's thick with age
Mark off the day
Reflections of my life are fading
The cold is but cold, yet it seems and feels so constricting, frigid, and crippling, in more way than one. Whether it be the harsh sting of winter, the snap of reality, or the cold memories and emotions coursing through one's mind, all three ways may lead to oblivion. The only difference, is what experiences are had on the way.
Constricting the senses, trapping the harbored contents of the mind into a single place. All force focused into a solid epicenter, these waves will spread, shattering any reflections and joyous memories of one's life, never able to be regained. Each date, anything of importance, relevance, forgotten.
The air is weighed down by a sickening feeling of despair and agony. The aroma is thick with age, affecting anyone around it. This alone, enough to break a fragile mind, lead them to wander, meander through corridors, all ultimately leading to ruin.
This day, above all, will stand out. A last for a distinct soul, driven over the edge. Corrupt by the chaos and cold. Mark off the day, for it will be his last.
Pull me out of body, don't want it, don't want in
Feeble, frail, and rotting, descending
I'm lost in a structure that's collapsing
Don't want it, cast into,
Maker take the body, don't want it, it wants me
Feeble, frail, and rotting, descending
I'm lost in a structure that's collapsing
Don't want it, cast into,
Maker take the body, don't want it, it wants me
"Take me away from this! Leave me be! I don't want this! I don't want in! I'm dying from the inside, set me free! My life is collapsing! I don't want it anymore! Give me release, take this body away!"
His crazed words echoed through the night, like the scream of a dying beast. All that he knew, all that he took for granted, torn away in the blink of an eye. Not wanting to continue on, he wishes for release, to be severed from the reality of the mortal realm, and guided into an afterlife. Everything slowly rotting away, decaying before him. Only can he watch from a sideline while this occurs, completely helpless to detour this path of destiny.
The entire structure of his life, crumbling in the destructive tides of shattered peace. This man, apparently swallowed up by these waves and tides, lost in the destruction of his own establishment of mind. A last action, enough to snap his sanity in two, no longer willing to fight the tide, to regain what has been lost, wanting release from his body, plagued and possessed by eternal chaos and despair.
Past has found its place
Salvation is no more
Will God accept my peace
Bleached will pardon me
Reflections of my life are fading
[/i]Salvation is no more
Will God accept my peace
Bleached will pardon me
Reflections of my life are fading
Past, all of its contents, has found its place, buried deep into a pit of oblivion, soon to possibly be joined by this man. Too deep in, too far to turn back, regretting the choices made, possibility of salvation has been eradicated. One ray of hope shines through the sky, long ago smothered by the ominous clouds of a chaotic wildfire. That ray of hope, being a question. Will God accept this man's peace? Bleached of life, will God pardon him?
Pull me out of body, don't want it, don't want in
Feeble, frail, and rotting, descending,
I'm lost in a structure that's collapsing
Don't want it, cast into
Maker take the body, don't want it, it wants me
I just want to run around
Fly kites, wrestle, jump, and play
Swim through waves that crash to shore
Memories in me..., cocooned in misery
[/i]Feeble, frail, and rotting, descending,
I'm lost in a structure that's collapsing
Don't want it, cast into
Maker take the body, don't want it, it wants me
I just want to run around
Fly kites, wrestle, jump, and play
Swim through waves that crash to shore
Memories in me..., cocooned in misery
His own being thrown into turmoil, settled life ripped out from under his feet. Thoughts of his mind started to derive and ask questions. 'Why can't I enjoy the simple pleasures of life anymore? Why is everything against me? What happened to the times where I could play around, have fun? Why can't I remember any of those times of joy? Maybe they're all buried, deep inside of my misery.'
I'm sick and tired of embracing reflections of my past time
Receive me or cast me away....
God, please take me away
[/i]Receive me or cast me away....
God, please take me away
These memories, the harsh reality of these memories. No longer does he wish to retain and embrace them, but to shatter these reflections like a mirror. Only two options remain in his mind. God will accept him, bestow onto him the gift of release. Or, God will cast him away, forced to live on through this despair, the swirling torrent of pain, which he recognizes as his life. No longer does he wish for it, but begs God to take him away, deliver him from this pain, finally to experience release.
Resistance, futile, suicidal ideas
I will crucify my own being, satisfy selfish needs
Forget the deities
Justify my own right to what's waiting for me
I will crucify my own being, satisfy selfish needs
Forget the deities
Justify my own right to what's waiting for me
At this point, no longer will he trust in God and Heaven to release him from this living hell, he pledges to take destiny into his own hands. Resistance to these catastrophic changes seems senseless, as suicidal ideas flood into this ravaged mind. Throwing the deities to the wind, not caring for what they deem fit any longer. Should it be the only path, he will crucify his own being. To satisfy these selfish needs, any measures will be taken. To justify his own right, to destiny and fate, to what's waiting for him.
On the other side
The time has come
Lock and load
I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming
I'm coming home
The time has come
Lock and load
I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming
I'm coming home
Lock and load, is the path his mind took. Hunting down those who threw him into the endless abyss, and cutting their existence short. Silenced forever, their voices still torment his mind, driving him closer and closer to falling off the edge completely, into a blank void. All of this, too much for him to stand, On the other side, the side past the realm of the living, the time has come for his entrance. Will he accept this offer? Or refuse it, and continue to pass his pain onto others? Simply put, he's coming home.
Pull me out of body, don't want it, don't want in
Pull me out of body, don't want it, don't want in
Pull me out of body, don't want it, don't want in
Feeble, frail, and rotting, descending
I'm lost in a structure that's collapsing
Don't want it, cast into
Maker take the body, don't want it, it wants me
I just want to run around
Fly kites, wrestle, jump, and play
Swim through waves that crash to shore
Memories in me..., cocooned in misery
Pull me out of body, don't want it, don't want in
Pull me out of body, don't want it, don't want in
Feeble, frail, and rotting, descending
I'm lost in a structure that's collapsing
Don't want it, cast into
Maker take the body, don't want it, it wants me
I just want to run around
Fly kites, wrestle, jump, and play
Swim through waves that crash to shore
Memories in me..., cocooned in misery
"They finally fell, I even did it myself. Why doesn't this torment end? When can't I bring myself to accept release? Rid me of this confusion! Take my body, I don't want it anymore! I don't want anything to do with it! Let my soul fly free! Take my body into the grave! Finally, let me ascend to the Heavens!"
This time, the words coming from his mouth do not hint of psychotic paranoia, but of a newly discovered truth. He now knows these mental wounds will never heal, no matter what he may try, whether it be eliminating those who brought him this pain, or throwing all others to the wind, steering away from anyone who would cause these memories to break from their cocoon of misery.
The darkness overcomes
Soul soars to the other plain
Existence past the door
I sail through Purgatory's Bay
Soul soars to the other plain
Existence past the door
I sail through Purgatory's Bay
This darkness, cloud of despair and misery, has begun to smother his being, sending him to what could very well be his final few moments on this plane of existence. Yet, even with his realization, he refuses to submit, intent on falling from his own means. One specific memory stuck with him all the way, quite possibly the sole metal strike that struck all of this in motion, like a twisted domino effect.
Those innocents, their material shells, crushed into oblivion, souls soared to the other plain. Yet, existence still held with them past this door of fate, something that this man wished for once he joined them as well. This event, sent him sailing through Purgatory's Bay, a cursed time of agony and distress, said to unearth the most unbearable sensations within a mind, letting them loose to wreak havoc to the unfortunate person. In this case, being this man.
I asked a God for poison, cradle me
Sown to my dreams, soul searching
Death blossoms where clouds lie over me
Held in God's hands, death blooming
Sown to my dreams, soul searching
Death blossoms where clouds lie over me
Held in God's hands, death blooming
About to end it all, his thoughts drifted back to the time where he believed God would release him. He asked a God for poison, whether it be material or spiritual, to end his torture, to cradle this pain. All of these emotions, scars, and experiences, don't cease to cause him pain at any moment, even within his dreams. He searches his own soul, looking for some answer to why this was all bestowed onto him, and why not someone else.
All around him, under these clouds of perpetual darkness, people drop dead from this chaotic current state of this world. Their last words, the last look in their eyes, their last attempts of grasping onto life for even one more second, etched into his mind forever. Every last one of them, their future lives held in God's hands. How does he reply? He winds up his arm, and hurls them away, halting their existence now and for all eternity.
Dark for fear of failure
An inner gloom as wide as an eye and fermenting
Rolling hate, death grip in my veins
Unveiling rancid petals, flowering forth foul nectar
The space between a blink and a tear
[/center]An inner gloom as wide as an eye and fermenting
Rolling hate, death grip in my veins
Unveiling rancid petals, flowering forth foul nectar
The space between a blink and a tear
A decision made, a future to be ended, he has made the ultimate choice. He will cast his own life away, at the same exact place where this chain of despair began. The seemingly twilight glow that this all holds. How it grows as wide as an eye, holsing together for a moment, then fermenting, falling apart into dust. The hate for being alive, rolling to the surface of himself, to every fiber of himself, driving him into a near trance. This will likely making ending his own life less difficult, unless something decides to intervene. Even as the thoughts of release course through his mind, death slowly starts to grip his veins, leading him to realize that this very well may work.
His choice of death over life, unveils the rancid petals inside him, the linings and inner workings of his mind. Casting into this trance, these petals flower forth, releasing the foul nectar known as his demented and psychotic thoughts. Raising a contraption to his head, one last event occurs, as a loud sound crashes through the night. One tear escapes his eye, slowly running down his face. Yet, he never realized it, for in the space between a blink and a tear...
...death blooms