It was three in the morning,
I thought I heard something in the wind
A voice calling to me
"Come to me."
And so
With curiosity fresh in my mind,
A staggered out into the moonlit night
And there she sat, upon a stone
Next the creek.
The closer I got,
The more she faded.
And when I was right there in front of her,
She said
"She needs you."
And so she disappeared
That cold, quiet night
And I went back to my bed
And wondered to myself,
"Who is 'she'?"
And then it hit me.
Mari.
I woke once again,
The sun peeking over the horizon
And I set out in search of her,
My beloved.
My best friend.

*The only one who matters.

I will lie here in my bed
Contemplating with my head
How it is you tick
What drives your soul
What makes your mind work
Because it isn't your heart
That stopped ages ago
I will try to look inside
Your misty eyes for the answer
I look for something mechanical; a clock, a pacemaker
The thing that makes you tick
The thing that gives you life
It isn't your brain
That stopped last night
When I told you how I felt
But still you seem to move on, working fine
With no heart, no smart
And so I will lie here in my bed
Contemplating with my head
How it is you tick

There once was a man named Good
He loved to make people happy,
He loved to make them laugh.
He helped people stay on track
And prevented anything bad.
But his brother, on the other hand
His name was Evil
All he wanted to do was drain the happiness from people's souls,
He wanted to see them cry.
He pushed people askew
And turned their souls from Good.
Now that I think about it
Evil must have touched me
Because I can only seem to do all the wrong things
And hurt everyone else's souls
Sending their way the message of Evil,
Driving out Good.

Winter is that time of year
When the sky's tears freeze to the fears
Of the cold air that they fall through.
Winter is that time of year
When my heart becomes cold and bitter
Waiting on spring to melt and bloom it.
Winter is that time of year
When the rivers and lakes freeze
And my legs shake with unease
Winter is that time of year.

The pieces of glass
That have fallen on the floor
Were from the shattered glass pane
That was your trust
I was tapping, tapping, tapping on the glass
Testing you
Seeing how much pressure you could take
But then, I tapped much too hard
And just like a window
The glass pane exploded
Sending shards of false trust everywhere
Cutting you and me
The pieces of glass
Lying on the floor
Are much to small to pick up and put back together
So you say, "What's the point?"
And I reply, "There is no point.
But as we rebuild our friendship
The glass seems to pick itself up, reassembling into a thinner pane this time
While I cannot resist tapping the glass, inserting my lies,
This time I will not break it.