My mind is windy,
So cold in storm.
Thoughts so violent
They scrape and scorn.
Illness of those
Who freak and fret,
Led to temptation
Of permanent rest.
Locked in frustration
Of guilt and regret.

Succumb to hatred from birth to death.

We fall
Into design.
A pretend world
Created,
According to the eyes
Of ones with no sight.
We live,
And we die.
Some fight
And some hide.
Both strong in right,
Though equal in fear.
As living through others,

Makes life unclear.

Pretty,
You are.
A beauty of gold
That shines afar.

I know
I stalled these feelings
So large.
Sewing my heart
And hiding my scars.

But now
I know the truth as is.
I would give my soul
For a little kiss.

And now I pray,
To the lord above.
Give me your hand,

And let me love.

A note to nature ,
Blooming in scenes.
Comfort in quiet,
Enriched in peace.
Leaving me silent
And blind from greed.
Clueless to violence ,

Finally at ease.

No.
Not again.
My heartbeat stops
And comes to an end.
Lord.
It’s the end.
A flower once nourished
Now withered instead.
Nothing.
Blue feelings instead.
Imbalanced inside
As I hang by a thread.
Hm.
I’m hung by a thread.
Cut off from stitches
That helped me to mend.

As now I hang down,
In the blues of my head.

I am no good.
Not the look of light
And ‘beauty’ that I should.
You say this once ,
Now twice in fights.
Saying my body
Is all but nice.
Fine.
I am so good to despise.
Not the look of woman
That you need in sight.
But that’s alright,
Your mind has fled.
To dream of a woman
Of ‘beauty’ in bed.

Am I,
Not enough ?
The hurt is bitter,

Your words are tough.

Is she ,
Better than I?
Your little angel,

The apple to your eye.

But me?
I’m a mess.
A child of stress ,

You love me less.

And her ?
She’s your whole life.  
Living in your arms ,

Letting me die.

But alas ,
No need to shout.
Your actions speak louder,

Than words from your mouth.