I am not your Romeo,
nor your Antonio
You are the beauty in power
and the sweet after sour
The sovereign of my heart
from the utmost start
To where we are now
From down there below

We are free doves
Where none loves
Only flow with the wind
Where darkness clinged
White doves come along
With too many white lies
Black doves, move along
With such depressing pre-lives

I remember her, with a smile
and a sore heart, in that while
I remember the first day
I saw you in that way
I remember our first touch
as I'll remember her such
I remember our first kiss
as it is my final wish

She broke my heart,
but I remember the start
Her heart was ever sore
with yet an untold lore
I remember her so sweet
as I do our final greet
She's a broken young lady
a great heart, that's shading

The poet:
Write about the sun
during the dark
then writes of the moon
in the afternoon
Writes on a blank page
'till that page's full

The poet:
Reads over his(her) words
as if they're chords
then sit in sorrow
and wonder
if he'll(she'll) write better tomorrow

One of the happiest days, was when I first saw you

The saddest?
Well that would be the day I had to say goodbye, but didnt't
It would be the day
I destroyed it all again

I see many poets' words
where some of them are chords
written for the lords
and written by the nords

Many of these words are depressing
Others are mostly addressing
someone, or something sad
written by another young lad

Words of endless motivation
that sets in motion, a whirl
topic'd all depression
written by a beautiful girl

All these words together
is what makes me mostly dread
what is set in forever
and will be all that's said