When I look into the mirror,
I see a girl with high hopes, yet broken dreams-
A girl who hides behind a mask,
which deems to be happy and sane.
But underneath,
a small girl lays.
Frantically giggling at the mess of her refection.
She stares with innocent eyes
and a smirk on her face and mouths
failure
dragging me into the mirror, she waltzes around my feeble body
chanting in circles
failure, failure, failure
each time getting louder
failure
she steps closer
failure
she grips my shoulder and laughs into my ear
failure
shivers run up my spine
I know it's true
the lights go black leaving me with the cacophony of silence
the word still lingering in my mind
failure

All my dreams are nightmares
of crashing planes and long lost lovers.
Locked in the reality of nothing,
I'm forced to watch my silent wretched screams
That I cannot seem to quash.

 Yearning for amnesia,
there's always one last thought of devilish crystal eyes.
Yet near this dreamcatcher,
Ravenously feeding the deepest, darkest hour of pain, 
Each taunting tale of terror burns like acid rain.

 All my dreams are nightmares and love's a myth. 
My only genuine faith is in the ghosts I'm with.
Sometimes they may appear using my personal traits.
Almost reassuring, but I know it's the guise of wraiths 

Ringing like a death knell, but it's the alarm that's calling
 Easing the dread for a while, come the dawn of mourning
 Needing the reality of nothing, for all my dreams are dead
 I try to quell my racing heart and find sanity's thread

 Gone, for now, those memories, for daylight's my antisera 
Hostilities will resume though, come the next chimera 
They'll re-emerge in the night and show me horror and loss 
Macabrely leading me, like an effigy, to a burning cross 

All my dreams are nightmares, they're from a cliff to fall 
Reaching for a silent lover, who's back in another's thrall 
Each haunting hour of horror is like those crashing planes 
Stalling before falling, then hideous plumes from flames

Black sun on a sea of ash. 
Darkness falls; light is not coming back. 
The raven calls in the midnight hour. 
All things left in the garden are uprooted flowers. 

The jealousy of it all,
my ravenous heart trying to possess success
like a breath of fresh air, deeply inhaling
until my lungs could ache no more,
and I had to let go…

Summer is dead like the corpse of time. 
Frozen in place; bound to ground within twine. 
The little lights no longer shine. 
All is darkness in the land of the blind. 

I belong to the ocean and the waves
where I clash and flow,
to the mountains and trees
where I dance and my soul
becomes part of creation

in a cycle of time, where I are free-
Tears mark the route he took, 
To a place without any good luck. 
The tricks are played like a funeral dirge. 
All is dirt.
 
All around are the widows in white. 
The only black dresses are saved for the brides. 
This is another day of eternal night. 
City of angels who have lost their lives. 

But the jealousy of it all,
for me trying to possess success
when I had to let go-

Broken dreams lay in the gutter and doorways. 
The only lights left are the fires that rage. 
Death is written on every page.

The angel lost her grace,
As mascara ran down her face.
She forgot love, remembered hate.
She no longer had her faith.

With tear stained cheeks,
Through bloodshot eyes,
She saw only pain and suffering.
Love, she couldn't conquer.

As the blue sky faded to black,
Darkness filled her heart.
Her wings vanished from her back,
And her kindness fell apart.

Even with all her might,
Her dress still went black from white.
She was sent to save,
To help those who weren't brave.

But as she looked around,
At the marks she left...
Tear stained cheeks,
And bloodshot eyes.

Your wrists are clean,
but the water is stained.

Your face says happy
but your eyes say pain.

so much depends
upon

a yellow poppy
flower

banished to sacrifice
love

amongst the dead
roses

The merry-go-round goes round and round, even after the battle was won, it goes round and round. On a continuous circulation, the children laugh and laugh, little did they know that the blood of the fallen soldiers was streaming down their faces. After all dreams are lost, it is remembered that the light only feeds of damnation and that darker proses only convey the morbid truth. But the merry-go-round goes round and round, continuing the innocence of the blood-stained children, yet continuing to cease their hope.

They try to beat me,
they try in vain.
But when I win,
I end in pain.