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I ****** the vessel that one day will inherit this heart.
With it the sadness they will never know and the love they will never feel.
In time I learned it's a selfish act to rid myself of this burden.
To give such false-promise and hope is my heart screaming in spite.
I only hated what I never understood.
A little chunk from a two part series "The Donor" and "The Inherit.:
I'm just passing through the eyes.
Of those who never knew I was alive.
The passion, unveils the truth.
Holding the love that got me through, this night.
The world is the canvas, you are the muse.
The past that has passed now must conclude.
Martyred in flesh, in heart we live on.
Your youth spent troubled is already gone.
And I'm back... Just another verse same for my music project that is in the works.
These cuts aren't from paper.
One of those one liners. Simplicity.
I'm so sorry so they say.
I'm just your puppet for play.
Simple and straight to the point.
Passion is like a coal.
Touch it and you will hurt.
Hold it and you will be burned.
Everything within reason will tell you to let go,
but it hurts less to hold.
Beauty resonates deep within the glowing essence.
It harbors love, and harbors hate.
This is passion, this is pain, this is happiness.
Passage I wrote on the bus while thinking about my future. Not quite the final product, but you get the point.
I apologize for what is next
My love for you doesn't exist
It’s hard enough for me not to say
I’m slowly falling the wrong way
I never had what felt right
I never slept at night
How could you even see
When the truth was under lock and key

In my dreams you always hang
And when I wake I feel the pain
Now swallow your problems away
Take your dose to numb the day

Let my love loose
Let it bleed profuse
I couldn't resist the desire
Ah cheating liar
I should be dead
The urge inside my head
Now let it go, the pain begins to slow
You’re not my only, love

The scars, I have seen
My heart, it always bleeds
The pain, floods my mind
The hate, cuts through the night
This is just pieces of a bigger puzzle strung together so that explains the lack of flow and immediate direction.
In theory these words will never hurt
In practice I’ll make it work
My life is hopeless need for wanting affection
I’ll always see it as some imperfection
Why can’t I get it right?

— The End —