Oh how fools can pity me
For they can not know
Of into which sadness I flee
Of those dark shadows I go

If they dare, sought me out
They know not what they find
From the terror of midnights' shout
Buried forever within insanitys' mind

I will take to the grave my sorrow
Even in Death I am never free
Condemned to rot in somewhere hollow
Where the fools can pity me

Unusual Place
living in an unusual place
no tracks left to trace
bridges already burned
tables already turned
**** has hit the fan
all my words got a ban
too much controversy
people begging for mercy
never knowing what I'll find
inside my warped little mind
some of you love
some of you hate
my big white dove
that's always running late
my pen is my gun
shooting words just for fun
my stories, you all read
listen and follow my lead
no one more entertaining
your brains, I keep on draining
my silly words have you fooled
my rhymes keep you schooled
I like to brag
I like to boast
now light up your grass
and raise that glass
and give me the proper toast

I always knew I looked like her:
same eyes, smile, ****** expressions,
and even our glasses and smiles.
I always knew that my curls and her
        straight hair separated us.
I always knew that we liked the same things,
disliked the same things.
I always knew our hands wrote the
        same.
I always knew that her fear of
        something
and my love for that thing
made us unique,
but today I learned something new.
We talk the same.
I may swear more,
but I'm not really sure.
I've heard her swear once when she
        was mad,
and every other time,
she was reading a foul line.
But when we're happy,
we have the same tone,
the same speed,
the same words.
When we're sad,
you can hear it in our voices,
see it in our eyes,
notice it in our slouching spines.
And when we're proud of others,
we let them know.
Oh, over and over again,
we let them know.
I'm proud to say I'm like her,
and maybe not seeing her for a year,
I'll be okay.