Fun stuff - well, OK, most of this is not "fun", but I write it to express my feelings. You don't have to read it, neh?

Faded Man - Jaded Heart.
Forlorn soul torn apart.
Failed again to make a start,
Back into the void.

Faded Man - Walking Dead.
Disillusioned empty head.
Nothing for him, only dread.
Back amongst the void. 

 Hatred

The beast within my blackened heart stalks round it's lonely cage.
Held in only by force of will, I feel it's burning rage.
A grim determination plots the padding of it's paws.
The prison walls grow weary under deep wounds from it's claws.

I cannot drop my guard - I feel it looking through my eyes.
They are it's window on the world, a world it does despise.
It seeks to rend, to tear, to shred, to destroy all it finds.
I have to keep this primal force a prisoner in my mind.

The crimson tears well up on the surface.
Collecting together, they drip, ripple and pour.
So long a prisoner, They seek only to escape.
Like me.

The red stream relentlessly flows out to sea.
Abandoning this shell to wash up on the shore.
My strength leaves with the tide. No will to stop it.
Not long now.

All the colors follow the red. Mine is a gray world.
Even light seems to have outstayed it's welcome.
I'll ponder it later. Too tired to think straight.

The darkness makes me sleepy.
I wonder if I'll dream?

A happy face  - (my thin facade)
A cheerful voice - (I soon discard)
A jolly walk - (I've practiced well)
A perfect smile - (to mask my hell)

No lurid bruise - (they're all inside)
No bleeding wound - (only my pride)
No broken bone - (my heart has none)
No threat to life - (the will has gone).

No sadness here - (none you can find)
No suffering - (it's in my mind)
I'm not depressed - (I am this low)
Don't want to leave - (nowhere to go)

A river of bad blood, trapped behind skin.
A raging torrent, that must be kept in.
My ears full of roaring, a wet wall of sound.
One move could release it, to soak in the ground.
The pressure is building, the tide is too high.
The dam cannot hold this, but still I must try.
The pain makes me whimper, the blood makes me howl.
But it must stay inside by fair means or foul.
No time to give quarter, so tight is the skin.
I must show no mercy, this fight I must win.