She was like a rainbow
But yet so grey
She was full of diseased love
But as beautiful as a dove
Full of festerous denial
Tainted by a guy named Kyle
What the hell did he do
He took away her color
One after another

Am I dieing inside?
Teeth clenched
Jaw locked
Is this pain real?
Stomache wrenching
Face beating
Does time really heal?
Feet planted
Eyes focused
No.
Nothing can heal the tragic love I have for you.

Listening doesn't always mean understanding
- Listening could mean getting lost in your own thought of tranquility
- Or even your own devastational whir
- Listening doesn't have to be with your ears
- Just the exhaustion of emptiness that outlines your skull;
- Or even the numbness that conquers every length from spine to external excellence of your mind;
- Gliding from one emotion to another could be the loudest transaction without making a single clamor;
- Listening doesn't always mean understanding
- But the utter perplexity of ones thoughts drowning in the sound of nothingness.