Leather bound fantasies perched upon his shelves.
He lives on the words of writers long past.
Eyes darting from left to right, He yearns to learn
of his false friends fates. Unwilling to succum to
sleep, he will not leave them behind. His eyes
water and fingers bleed where the pages cut him,
but his eyes will not stop moving, his heart pulses

A Heroless boy, afraid of the world, a world where
people live their lives without ever having the
electrifying taste of adventure touch their lips.
A Heroless boy, who believes battlefields are
playgrounds and those who die were not meant
to survive. A Heroless boy, forced to "play"
outside while the sun tortures his eyes. He
sits alone in the park plotting his own epic
tale. A tale where he can choose his own
destiny, and hold his life in his own hands.

The Heroless boy is not afraid of Death,
he is not afraid of God, his only fear is the
monotony of life.

Tell me what you think, its not quite finished, but this is it for the most part.
Quote by Mendizzle65
I was thinking about like spoken word with a post-hardcore sound.

I could see that working out pretty well. When do you think you might have a sample up of a recording?