azlynn-jane-andrewsWhisper

American
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Bitter Green EyesRays set to illuminate her left / Making her form a black silhouette / As she twirls with ribbons in her hair
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Inner peace or depressionInner peace or depression / The warmth that I feel filling my core / And rising to my cheeks and silent lips
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To my old anti suicide author.My old savior / My old hero / Why do your cries not touch me
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Maroon skyWhen the trees take root in the sky / And the planets rotate in the ground / The black bird sings a song of yellow
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Sweet Madness IIIOh my dearest friend / Old as the night / I have done this again,
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MudBy candle light anger flickers / Children raised by children fight / To lift them selves from ashes
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In ReferenceIn reference to your prior question: no, I am not sane. My trees are red and, my grass purple. On this psychedelic plane I speak to those within reality. While I am not sane, my mind is quite sound. All one is able to do is to describe their surroundings, outright, or abstract, and just like you with stable brain waves, that is all I seek to accomplish. Now how can you call me a mad man?
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LieAll were blinded by your beauty / How ever fake it was / I remember those days so safe
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Simple. What a Joke.If only things were simple / You and I / Worlds rotating around would make so much more sense
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Brother RavenRain dance / We all sing to the sky / Dancing and twirling to the ever present moon light
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