Her eyes are created from the oceans
Her body is the missing piece of the heaven
Her hair are the important elements for aurora boeralis, the lights that shines around the northern region
Her personalities are the missing piece from the heart of an angel
Her voices are part of a wonderful miracle
Her mind is the 25 percent of the universe
The curve from her warm smile taken from the rainbow, beautiful, colorful and ineffable
And her name is the pieces from the poetry that God ever written

When all the pieces gathered
Carefully mixed together
A winsome woman was created
Aurelia was the name given to her

I want to write songs about beautiful people and words
--a song for the birds!

I want to travel and dine, drink Italian wine
--I want to feel alive!

I want to hear words so deep that they burn my soul
--maybe then I'll feel whole!

I want to stop dreaming and wishing and yearning
--my passions keep burning!

I want to write poems and dance and have wild romance
--maybe I'll get the chance!

I need it.
I need it.

She keeps me up at night,
And I lie awake
as Peace drenches into fright,
she takes and takes and takes
and screams at me for my mistakes.

She tells me "No, you can't".
But even when I try to fight
My ear she takes and starts to rant
"You CAN'T, you CAN'T, you CAN'T."

And please don't think too less of me,
'Cause there's been times where I fight back
And I tell her who I want to be,
But it's no use when she attacks.
The color inside me fades to black.

If people tell me "Yes, you can",
I start to think maybe that's true.
I begin to smile but there she stands
behind my back a deathly hue
And snarks and laughs, "who, YOU?".

I know what you think,
why keep this friend?
Whose cold-****** words send me to the brink.
Why wouldn't you want it to end?
I'll tell you I try to break and bend.

But her hands choke me with guilt
Her eyes paint me with sick disdain
She tears down the places I rebuilt
And carves out the happy in my brain.

I put up a fight I can't back down
Because in glass and mirrors all around
what I see when I see her,
is that I am my own saboteur.

I gave you petals as presents,
But you just saw a broken rose.
I didn't knew that a cold distance
Was to you so near and close.

O Pen, write it all down before it leaves,
It's rude not to save what the heart receives.

I have read your words, O Poet of Pain,
Their musicality is bliss to ears,
A taste of sweets to mind when each one hears
About the lonely stars, about the rain.
The urn, the nightingale have stayed the same,
Since the moment they were written down, fears
Of loss and of decay (because of years)
Are not to be found – nothing gone to vain.

Your life and sacred love is stated clearly,
For beauty and the truth, who I can see
Although, like springs, it's repeated and old.
O Bard of Bright Letters! I thank you dearly,
That you have written lines of poetry
To us and yourself; their worth 's more than gold.