I was listening to GOT's new soundtrack and this song is so amazing(even though I don't like The Weekend) it kinda gives me Black Panther vibes. Maybe because of the song 'pray for me' which is also from The Weekend.
These soundtracks from the movies and TV series are killing me. What a time to be alive.
this is about a person who has heroism thrust upon him/her.
H E R O -------
mould my body like it's clay
fittin' some rebellion
but this blood, one in a million
I'm runnin' out of time
ain't shit you can do about it
try? you might throw a fit
minds in madness. no lamps lit
it's a dark world. need to upgrade your tool kit
say, you can die for me? lie for me? kill for me? save for me? live for me?
or maybe you can just let it all go free me for me?
this one's dense and I'm stuck in this dance
now that the pain is holdin' hands
I might be needin' maps of badlands
shove me into a broken sunrise
lift me up like a newborn child
reprogram me, I might have revived
gone a little too much into the wild
they pray for me, because I'm a risk they are willing to take
a stitched secret they can't burn at the stake
another living breathin' martyr fightin' for their sake
in the end, it's always: 'was it all fake?'
I'm loyal to my armor, I'm loyal to my heart
war is just a play, where I play my part
I lead warriors to paint red and show their art
the drugs might've been vague but this adrenaline feels so hot
my system might've been stupid but my body's hella smart
I was just a blur in their vision
indents got angry
vividness got envy
they're afraid of different
so they gave me an arrow
their pleads of tomorrow
hindsights and shallows
a lustre of their zeroes
look they craved me as a hero
Dooms of fireflies exist in mundane honey bees Running on escalators Still on stairs Excuse me if I don't make sense But that's the point I was never born to Holding charcoal pieces behind my back My face a vivid painting of blackness Stripping clothes behind the horizon I have a heart, but god strictly told me not to love my victims A year ago, I found hyenas laughing on souls They were broken And now, would you look at that Still broken, into the arms of a vulture Feeding it lies about my warmth Selfish just like these keyboard keys Vibrant colors all around I'm the maker of this corpse yet I excel in furnery practices Seen it a million times when I collected their souls I can sense their fear but I don't feed on it Because it's gone the moment I start singing my lullabies There is grace in their demise, yet they consider me a taboo I wasn't the one who told them to write 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' as a tattoo My workload is hectic, yet I tell stories of my life Of The grim reaper who fell in love with every life it took Like sunsets and the high tide
The Other Side Of A Sandpaper -----------------------------
The starways are decorated with blood Tails of comet carries souls of ghosts Melting sunsets and boiling lava Creating trajectories to let the grim reaper do his job And I'm a heavy drinker Not alcohol, it is just the liquefied flaming gases of centauri This galaxy is a cemetery, I'm a grave digger A landfill and I'm just a junker With mega trust issues and great maybes I still seek out to find. To find something which wants to be found Not reality. Reality is for losers Maybe fan-fictions written by time I could have seduced him to write me a better fate But boy, did he fell in love with speed I was units and quantities away There are craters in my cheeks. Every time a piece of me falls And sandpapers can't smooth them out. I'll be needing a leveller I should've ran when there was still a chance Should've bathe, when there were lights all around Ravens are jealous of my ability to camouflage With the dark obese clouds Envy rules them And oh, will you look at that Turns out, envy works under me I'm high on peaks. But I'm still canopies away from heaven Outrunning the streams, to reach the ocean, I'm still away by a million rivers Holding onto waterfalls and grey rainbows Contrasting Like the one which makes my high walls thorny, The Other Side Of A Sandpaper
S I X T E E N ----------- They made me swallow stars I vomited back black holes I was a kid, never was whole Set my world on fire, my pigtails, burning ropes I was Lonely, never was a homie, shrinking into horizons as if they know me That was it now the night is mine I've got a pocket full of stardust I fly and spit on miracles, pixies die when I burst Everest is so fancy, imma do molehills Sweet waters are boring, imma dive into titan's methane lakes Do you ever felt like you are a snowflake and the world likes bonfires? Do you ever felt like you are unemployed and the stone men are what the world hires? Do you ever felt like you tap the truth and all those suckers like liars? You must be sixteen Everywhere you go, you create a scene My mother told me 'don't be so mean' I listened to her, now I'm stuck beneath the streams Life ain't a rollercoaster with ups and downs It's a merry go around with circles for rebound I was too young to understand when my Father said that 'You are a hurricane, Never go near a volcano' I thought it was just another one of his memo Now that I get it I'll be like 'oh no' I don't ever wanna grow up They say 'Age is a number' People are dumb I wish I could freeze time, but my fingers easily become numb In your eureka moment, this multiverse doesn't offer you the rolls of a drum So you shout On the top of your lungs, loud Breaking through this world's shroud Quaking the system, Waking up the crowd A song, a poem, a rap, a sound
Maybe it's the #last post _____________________________________________ What's there in a name And what matters, the hearts, The souls that made you feel better Or the gained fame.
What if tomorrow I'm gone The frequency of my syllables Will still match your cords Or I'll be all alone.
each and every shining star Which contributed in weaving constellations Will Still align in the same pattern If I leave no trail, and I'll be gone Will someone put any allegations In someone's story will I get a part
The people I met The stories I weaved The characters I lived The masterpieces I have seen The hearts which cried The poetries I bleed This place, which made me complete This all will remain with me I believe, when I'll be gone.
This isn't a poem. This is written without Counting syllables or Making figures of speech. This doesn't rhyme. This is written raw, Some emotions in The form of words. This lies in my drafts Written from the bleeding ink. This is a cliché That shows how repetitive I am And how obvious words I use. So, I will write again That all this Cuts through my existence. This is trash. But I will write. I will write it all. I will write because This is the only thing I can do except thinking. I will write and I write.
And he tried, tried really hard to make those dead butterflies flutter again, tried to fill their rotten wings with colors of glee again; But he couldn't find this cemetery, fight the demons guarding it and touch those miserable creatures. And neither he nor I could reach the depths of my heart where these wonderful creatures were buried alive, But he shouldn't dare as it would haunt him, taint his delicate hands with strife. But still he tried.