The black ink stain,
Represents my pain,
The sarrow,
The feling of no tommarow,
Sight of destruction,
Fight of death,
Feeling of pian,
The emotion of sarrow,
Still hanging on the fact,
That i got no tommow,
I got nothing left,
Not even a breath,
The feeling the pain,
Of being put to death,
I just cant see it in my own eyes,
The lies ive made,
The destruction ive caused,
The feling of saroow,
The emotion of pain,
Now that felings stuck in my brain,
Through this pain the pain of dismay,
The rivry of the light the dark,
So tonight marks the time the place,
The prime discrase,
The deseased one,
The minipulated one,
The overthaough oversaught out of control one,
Like a shadow of bleak dark grey,
The power of the unfourtunate and my dismay,
But fourtunate for me that i can see,
The one thing thats dragin me down,
Into the ground,
The slimey slippery death bound,
But the other way around,
Im still profound,
To the things i see,
The ones that affect me,
The things i her,
The things i say, ,
The things i may, ,
Have to do this way,
One by one down at the bay,
All around but no where to be found i lay,
Because the power of dismay has bitten me,
Consumed me,
Taken me away,
Through the power of ultimate dismay,
The unconsience one,
The one who lay,
With the power to stay,
Just lie there just lie there,
Just please go away,
Please obey,
I dont want to stay,
I got to say that im through,
Im done this isnt fun,
No way say hey,
Ive seen the sun rays time and time again,
Yet but can i see them again,
From here to now,
From now to then,
I can see the way that escapes my mind,
The binding bind,
The key to my sarrow,
The key to my heart,
The sadness in me is like a shopping cart,
It just goes ile by ile,
Back and forth,
Going south and north,
Through the darkness in a race ,
Im going at my own pace,
Just like a black suit case,
Im always in my own race.

BY OWEN ROBILLARD