Lost

What goes around comes around 
Pain is inevitable, happiness new found
But profound...
Amazing the person we see
Is never quite thorough to the person we wish to be...
 
Am I lost? Or losing myself
Coming or going? As a wise woman said
My personality is a stealth 
Cruising below societies radar
Using me, myself and I as a triple decoy
Coy it is to shut you out 
Utterly living quite alone...body and soul

Who I am?
Most will never know
Exposed in 10 different faces
But my mind never shows
Respect to the Gemini
With the many eyes he receives
From the stares of being a multi facetious being
Two fascism confused quite commonly
But who is God among society to judge me

Lost I am within my on stealth
Is this how celebs occur wealth?
So lost at who they began as
Masked acting as different characters
Each a mile wide from the last...
I envy my past...it holds Me
Through growth, innocence, and maturity
Sad to think my presence leaves no trace
Erased...no just lost in a future portrait of Me
Amazing the person I see
Is not quite thorough to the person I wished to be...

By: Tyrone Alcorn, Jr.

Definition Of Nice

Thanks For Giving

The homeless asking you to spare All year
As you say no with petty lies
And they stare in despair from where they lie
Thanks for giving

Listen in the wind and hear baby cries
As all around the globe children die
Hunger, starvation when you were too lazy for a can drive
Thanks for giving

Government for the land of the free, so proud to be
As your millions eat with no heat
And those who eat luckier than the many drowning in poverty
Thanks for giving

Fighting a war with no cause
Because officials greed without the thought of a child's need
The clause? Fatherless children, and holidays spent to grieve
Thanks for giving

The girl you seen always picked on
When you looked on, with the power to stop
Stop the hate, doing what's right, instead she found a knife
Thanks for giving

The younger sibling that begged to be around you
You called a nag and told to shoo
Finding the wrong crowd, wandering the streets with nothing to do
Thanks for giving

We take and take all year round
Constantly doing what is only in progression for you
If only you knew what comes with holiday, the truth
Thanksgiving...

Instead of finding reasons for thanks
Be the reason others are blessed
You are rewarded most when thinking of 'the rest'
Thanks for giving

Whatever your contribution
Be the reason
Time,hope, money, motivation
In ALL seasons...
Let someone say...Thanks for giving

By: Tyrone Alcorn, Jr.
Definition Of Nice

Suicidal War

How do I feel?
How or should be what?
The feeling I feel should erupt
So overwhelming it's surreal
 
Pain and misery
It's a rush no creep
Pulling me down slowly
Into the water so deep
 
It's gloomy, dark
So much depth around me 
But I feel closed in a box
Not ordinary texture, but one made of bark
 
I scratch at it 
Begging to be free
But my nails wear down
No one there to help me
 
So I drown in my lonesome 
The little spec in the distance
Is the happiness burning off a shining sun
Tried to reach, but sadness overwhelms persistence
 
So down
Down, down
I fall
No return
 
As I sink lower
The cold clings to my skin
But inside my heart burns 
Because the war will never end
 
Agonizing war I say
Like Persia and Rome in present day
Strike my heart with 2 ft. Swords 
I question myself, can I take much more?
 
It hurts 
Hurts so bad
Relief from the wounded flesh
Happiness brings anew so I may feel refreshed
 
But what happens when joy has lost
Depression is that state, I know
I feel as if I've sunken too low
Somewhere no human being could go  
 
Wounds to the heart never heal
A river flows many ways from where the blood spills
Chest gets cold, brain release the feeling you cant hide
Because you've truly died inside
 
Mind and body
Coincide as one 
So when the mind dies 
The body has soon begun
 
Muscles tense and grow weak
Fact remains your young, but feel so elderly 
Knees buckle, back cripples
You try to continue, but your strength is so little
 
You fall and can't get up
Agonizing but quiet pain creeps up 
Torn like the paper you tear
Your last breath is but another riffle in the air
 
But still I am here
Wounded and torn 
Pain, misery, inside cries
Mind and body at times, may seem to die
 
My face has become worn 
From the many emotions it hides
The flame in my soul continues to burn
With it depression can wound, but the war I survive
 
By: Tyrone Alcorn, Jr.  
      Definition Of Nice