Roses are beautiful
But they’re quite bitter tasting
Don’t reach for her heart
Because it doesn’t match her
Beautiful exterior
Chills to the bone
Is what you will receive
No warm emotions to calm your soul.
Roses are beautiful
But they stab you if you come near.
They don’t liked to be touched,
As most women feel.
No one likes a ***** ladies
Am I right?
Roses are beautiful
But they’re quite sweet smelling.
Poison to lure you into their magic spelling
Once your close and quite intoxicated
By that sweet sweet overrating.
You think you’ve got the girl
And then she pulls out her claws
And reminds you her thorns
Are sharper than her flaws.
Roses are beautiful
But roses will be roses
as long as she’s viewable.
Hold your expectations
For after the luminal.
Blank mind
You’ll find
Works best
For your own rest.

I never meant to feel this pain.
I never meant to feel this way.
I never mean to run away.
But it seems I do anyway.
I never pretend to be anybody else
Except for every day when
I’m just not myself.
I never cry myself to sleep
Except for the nights I silently weep.
I never fall on the ground
Don’t worry the scratches on knees
won’t be found.
I never whisper your name
Except for the nights I swallow my pain.
I never fall in love
Except for the times
I’ve fallen so hard
I wish I could die.
I never scream my thoughts
Except for the ones
bouncing around my brain.
I never lie awake
Except for the nights I cannot say.
I never shy too far away.
Old habits will be habits
At the end of the day.
Break them or lose them
They always stay.
Maybe eventually
To my dismay.

It’s funny how good of an actor
I can be...
A liar really.
It’s funny how so much
can come out of my mouth
And yet I mean so little.

Liar, Liar
My throat burns with fire.
Smoke pulsing through my veins
Suffocated by the chains.
Lies slipping from my tongue
Like hard liquor slipping down his throat.
Falling into his mind
So effortlessly.
My words are polished
With poison and daggers.
He listens to my words.
His mind staggers.
Each syllable blazing a path down his spine.
Each letter a stab from the red rose vine.
I say what he wants to hear.
He eats up every word.
And it’s the last of me he’ll ever taste.

She's high on life.
Well...
Life spiked with a little
something else.

What’s written in the stars
Isn’t written in stone.
What’s written in the book
Isn’t written in bone.
Don’t let your stars decide
Who will fight
And who will die.
Who will change
And who will lie.
Don’t let your stars decide
Who will be next in line.
What’s written in the stars
Isn’t written stone.
And even stone
breaks like bone.

Bottled up thoughts
like the ones in treasure chests,
like the bottles of ships
in the oceans crests.

Bottled up sand
and bottled up words.
The ocean swallows
what the ocean heard.

Words whispered into the wind
watch the clouds dance
as they flash their furious grin.

Words not listened to
by anything but the sun
and the moon
and the stars
all without a mouth
to comment on your infidelity.

I have seen the world a million times, yet I am not alive.
I am always moving, yet I can not breath.
I am older than all, yet I do not age.
What am I?

I’m the wind that fills your lungs,
the air you breathe so wishfully
hoping that this time
won’t be like that last.