I sit im my room with thoughts of wonder

How can a simple fool even begin to exist in a complex,

mind rapping world like this one we call home

Stripping life from my soul like I'm a helpless baby with no hands

The dreams that happen with in our forever leaking minds

are like feathers falling by a deep struck arrow of that of a

birds soaring high in the sky

This thing we call life, claws at my eternal, bleeding soul

like ripping razors of hate

Down deep I know there is a life in some form

that I have yet to discover within

The razor's scare is deep within the inner lining of our souls

as visions of true and visions untold await us at the end of this souls departure

I wonder if the razor stays within as the soul leaves or

if it starts over anew with a fresh new soul to feed upon

But for now as it tears at this soul of our's ever so deep

I wonder if the next razor will be as sharp or cut so deep