Northface, pretty face, thinks shes perfect, far from it, so not worth it.
Acts like she’s sure of herself, always knows exactly what to say, coping with the fact that tomorrow she has to get through another miserable day.
Surrounded by all the other girls, she’s the leader of the pack, only because she’s nice to them even though they all hate each other, and she knows they talk behind her back
Fully alive, life of the party, she can’t be mislead, crying on the inside, far from wounded, she’s already dead.
Jun 10, 2011
Jun 10, 2011 at 7:14 PM UTC
We’re all made to die.
To crash and burn like shooting stars.
It may not be soon,
but it will never be never.
Every soul has its time,
every love its own expiration
but like an ocean’s waves
it is all meant to fall.
So, let it fall
and let us die.
But most of all
let it live,
and let us thrive
Jun 10, 2011
Jun 10, 2011 at 6:17 PM UTC
Lunacy is freedom.
Solo, burnt, boundlessness.
Run crazy, run
far away and don’t look back
or their claws will sink right through
and capture you.
Cry crazy, cry
louder and harder
so that you pierce their ears
with the sound of your soul.
And laugh crazy, ******* laugh
at their frozen, populated boundaries.
Run lunatic,
Cry lunatic,
Laugh lunatic,
Run, Cry, and Laugh crazy,
because where you’re free they’re not.
Jun 6, 2011
Jun 6, 2011 at 5:45 PM UTC