Once upon a time lived a lovely, fair maid
She was young and naïve and believed in the power of love.
So, when the prince came to save her,
She thought he was her soul mate, thought it was fate,
For the slipper had fit like a glove.
But what happens when the slipper no longer fits?
When the sands of time have taken their toll,
When she is a young beauty no more?
Valleys on her face and inches on her waist,
And life has left scars on her soul.
Will her prince still be there to save her?
Is she the one he will want to kiss?
When all is said and done, will he be there fighting?
Or will he give up the ghost, say, “I guess we made the most,
But our time is up, and I’m sorry, Miss.”
How quick he is to forget her sacrifices.
All those years she patiently waited,
Trapped in her own personal tower, her cage,
Never giving up hope when she was alone, but now that she’s grown,
She can’t help but think love is overrated.
How can he break every promise he made her?
He said that there was nothing on Earth could tear them apart.
She was young, what did she know of reality?
Certainly not that forever could end, that it could just be a trend.
So, stupidly, she gave him her heart.
She thought it would be safe with him.
Now it lies in pieces on the forest floor,
How will she put it back together again?
It’s mangled and marred, it’s bruised and it’s scarred
With a grief that rocks her to her very core.
She had had a life before,
Now everything inside her felt dead.
She had been fun, innocent, she did not know pain.
And she had had dreams that he ripped at the seams
All because he didn’t mean what he said.
She can remember, bitterly, what it was to be loved.
She was once the apple of his eye,
He had made her feel like his own Aphrodite.
But now he has gone, chasing after a new, younger fawn
And all her best years have just drifted by.
Once upon a time lived a broken, sad maid,
She was wise and mature and no longer believed in love.
Once, long ago, a prince had saved her.
She thought she had found her soul mate, thought it was fate.
Now it’s just a time she’s reminiscent of.
I think of you often.
When I'm driving
or right before bed.
I think of the way things ended..
how we seemed perfect only weeks before,
and then in a flash,
you were taken from me.
I don't think I've ever cried so much
as I did that night.
I couldn't even go to school the next day.
The truth is,
I miss you.
I miss how you were the one
who was always there for me.
You never left,
even when I came crying to you,
even when I ignored you.
I miss the way you push me,
as messed up as that seems.
How we'd spend hours together,
and by the end,
I'd be hunched over;
exhausted and sweating.
How you'd bruise me and make me bleed.
But I craved to touch you,
and feel you in my hands.
I'll never forget every lesson you taught me,
good and bad.
And even though I see you sometimes,
on a Saturday night..
I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy
when you're with other girls.
You have influenced my life
and will always be part of it.
You will be part of my future.
But eventually..
I will lose you again.
And I don't know if I can take that.
Just know that I'll always love you.
These lost years of loneliness and social depravity
Have left me with nothing except this written tragedy
I sat and watched as the walls of my life crumbled away
Into this contorted sensation twisting through dismay
These ceaseless rememberance sessions screaming inside
A dead fixed stare on old friends taking cyanide
These bonds have come together in such a swift motion
And, just as fast they've came to their abrubt destruction
Dispersing any tint of mutual belonging from view
Molding a sad landscape of sighs and failing virtue
Watching as the remnants of my relationships loiter
The catacombs of these stockpiled confession letters
If only I could say anything my empathy had to tell me
My skeletal pose might have perched upright in a higher degree
And I would of have grown to a more formidable size
A clear cut aspiration that I never came to realize
Until all that I held grew too big for me to carry
and left me to stumble and sleep at the cemetary
Scratching dead love songs on century old gravestones
Where the forgotten have slept for generations alone
Hoping the crude penmanship might grace a weary heart
Or help a looming ghost feel a taste of love and depart
From the fog filled graveyard parade that it dwells
A final ringing from the synapsis of the greif bells
Sparking the ruin of a memory that doesn't seem real
A fading echo of a brotherhood I wish I could still feel
Detached from a reality that lurks in a decrepit imagery
Reshaping my empty cognition through a fake neuro surgery
I've reached the point where I have no reason to find
A replacement for all these buried pictures astray in my mind
Sometimes I feel like I can't get through the day...
And I often wonder why no one reaches out to help me.
But then I realize,
I feel like screaming to the top of my lungs, but nothing comes out.
I find out that that is just my imagination playing tricks.
I never called out for help at all.
And I probably never will.
Sometimes I feel like I can't get through the day...
And I often wonder why no one reaches out to help me.
But then I realize,
I feel like screaming to the top of my lungs, but nothing comes out.
I find out that that is just my imagination playing tricks.
I never called out for help at all.
And I probably never will.
Sometimes I feel like I can't get through the day...
And I often wonder why no one reaches out to help me.
But then I realize,
I feel like screaming to the top of my lungs, but nothing comes out.
I find out that that is just my imagination playing tricks.
I never called out for help at all.
And I probably never will.
Sometimes I feel like I can't get through the day...
And I often wonder why no one reaches out to help me.
But then I realize,
I feel like screaming to the top of my lungs, but nothing comes out.
I find out that that is just my imagination playing tricks.
I never called out for help at all.
And I probably never will.
Sometimes I feel like I can't get through the day...
And I often wonder why no one reaches out to help me.
But then I realize,
I feel like screaming to the top of my lungs, but nothing comes out.
I find out that that is just my imagination playing tricks.
I never called out for help at all.
And I probably never will.
Sometimes I feel like I can't get through the day...
And I often wonder why no one reaches out to help me.
But then I realize,
I feel like screaming to the top of my lungs, but nothing comes out.
I find out that that is just my imagination playing tricks.
I never called out for help at all.
And I probably never will.
Here's to the boy with the scrunched up converse
here's to the boy who held my hand
and told me, "I am here"
here's to the boy who made me feel loved
when everything was falling apart
here's to the boy who laughed when i fell
but hurried to help me up
and kissed my bruises
here's to the boy who put a smile on my face
when tears began to fall
Here's to you,
i love you
