Why do we dwell on the past
When life is full of contrast
Do we find peace in pain
Or do we just sit and remain

If we simply forget
Will we feel triumphant
I feel that memory is key
But yet you do not truly see

What burns inside
And tears the new divide
Or do you find comfort in what you confide
I do not care what you did to me...

Because you are just a *beautiful memory

She's
not just a girl.
No, one cannot simply
call her a girl.

She's
a storm,
a storm with skin, bound by
passion and dreams.

She's
a temptation,
her body a fire,
My senses a helpless moth.

She's
a maestro,
her laugh being
the sweetest symphony of all.

She's
a lioness,
the way she perseveres,
fights, and defends.

She's
a diamond,
brilliant and rare,
to be cherished and protected.

She's
a mile,
but only if
beauty was an inch.

She looked at her blades,
Than looked at her wrist...
She missed that feeling,
But her scars were healing.
She wanted to stay strong,
But i's  been so long...
She put the blade on her wrist,
And than made her hands into a fists...
She dropped the blade,
And began to cry..
She couldn't believe how long it's been,
Since she felt those blades cutting her self.....
She should be so proud,
But voices in her head got so loud...
She sat there in pain,
Because she knew she was  going insane!!!

What a good system
I can cry for hours all alone at night
But in the morning
If I smile
No one knows
Great.