Your Modesty Mansion shines bright.
Pastels and Moods ready to explode.
But it stays hidden.
Non existent.
Lost in the Bermuda Triangle of your mind.
Knowing you relate but your mouth stays silent.
Perceived as boring,
Drowning in dull.
Dried tongue with wonderful words.
Let them in your sacred house.
You belong,
Mr. Modest.

The only way to describe my soul
Is a memory of what it looks like
To have bugs crawling out of the drain.

Your dexterous brain hypnotizes me.
The gassed venom erupts from your thoughts and strikes mine
leaving me with helplessness and a dim light.
With temptation in mind
but never in your heart,
I am constricted with the fake,
shedskin love you've given me.
And you squeeze tighter and tighter
until I finally give up hope.
You devour me whole.
Then slither to your next meal.

You left me,
And its hard to understand
That its okay to be alone again.
That before you, I got by
With nothing but my own sweet thoughts.
But my thoughts now turned to demons.
Screaming:
"It's over, you're unworthy of love."
And I believe them.
You left me,
And its hard to comprehend
That I will never love anyone else,
Or myself
Ever again.