She took these idle hands of mind
and with them made something beautiful.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
I am my own disaster,
A wreckless fiend for mischief.
My life, the colour of chaos,
Of happiness, my own thief
I rob myself of satisfaction,
I get thrill from my own despair.
Stubborn to contentment,
Never settling for what is there.
I govern my own tormented land.
Though foolish I accept one thing -
I am my own worst enemy and
I never see me coming
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
In my head I had this picture
Of lovely pink and purple hues
A picture of "true beauty"
Defined by others' views
And through such rosy (biased) glasses,
I set out onto the world
Truly red at heart; On the outside,
A "perfect" pink and purple girl.
With some time, the pink shine faded
The purple glow was no more
When I met you, I was ashamed
Proclaiming how perfect I was before
I said - *Don't you worry,
I can restore the shine and glow.*
To which you did object
Saying there was something I should know.
I thought you quite insane
When you had simply said
*Of all the colours in all the world
I see perfection in red.*
I didn't quite believe you
I just completely failed to see
How someone would choose red
When they could have a pink and purple me
Though it took some time,
Your words did get through
The picture in my head
No longer tainted by others' views.
Beauty lies in more
Than in a couple of "perfect" hues
Perfection can be seen
In reds, yellows, greens and blues
The truest beauty lies within
A heart that is happy
Now my red shines proud.
...You changed the way I see me.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
... And as the sun set and the eve approached,
A golden beacon shone through the trees and across the sky.
Now, almost six months since then,
The shine has faded and I'm miles away,
Yet you still give me butterflies.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
It's times like these I wish I had never met her.
For at times like these I know I could never love another.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 6:43 AM UTC
Writhing in my slumber, my stomachs knotted and my chest is tight;
I know, through my dream, morning comes.
Dreading the dawn, my soul is lost to the night;
Though my body will soon return on home.
Lying in a field of soft purple grass, gazing up at the bright green sky,
I know this truth is truer, than any I thought I once knew.
So, though blissfully happy, I cry.
I'm restless, not from the dream-life I am living
But for the truth that comes with the breaking dawn.
I know with the morning I'll awaken
and with it my feet will walk on home
I came in search of pieces of me,
lost throughout old New York town.
I leave with more of me left behind,
The me that once was, no longer found.
Through foolish hope and reckless abandon,
I believed I could get her out of my system.
But she's shown me a whole new world, now. One beyond compare.
To deprive my heart of such wonder, simply would not be fair.
...But I know I must leave her,
morning has now come.
It's time to wake and
return these vagabond shoes home.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 3:16 AM UTC