As you see the sun uphold your own gaze,
you can't help but look away.
Keep staring into that
hushed, blinding abyss
and you lose what you had
not but a second before.
Macbeth had the "Milke of human-kindness"
hidden within until he looked unto his wife,
who prominently stripped it from him,
same as Mrs. Dashwood completely swallowed whole
any forgiving sense of charity in Mr. Dashwood
upon "Sense and Sensibility".
Don't look to the sun, nor hold it's tremorous gaze
for these reasons.
Greed makes us think past ourselves
and into a part that you've never recognized.
It bubbles towards fear and turmoil,
yet you can't drive down this greed.
Therefore,
don't hold the gaze of the sun.

Trapped underneath
without the flow
of their words
to guide you.
Oh, there's a flow,
but the harsh cold
of what you feel
in these waves
will never compare
To their words

You're back.
Why?
Please just leave me,
you know I'll fall

all

over

again.

Please don't say
"Well, don't you love
that feeling of the wind
against your beautiful face?"

Though falling might be fun,
it hurts every time
you say you'll catch me,
yet all I see is the ground.

For all of the
Underlying
Creeps trying to
Knock down my door;

Only
Females
For me, sorry.

I miss going bowling
and watching my ball
spin into the gutter
every time it left
my hand...

My demons,
though quiet to you
are never quite silenced
in me.

waiting patiently
for a reason to wake,
they crawl through the walls
of sanity,
lighting matches
of the nightmares I see.

They grow their empire
within my soul
only working by candlelight,
never sleeping
through the night.

My demons,
though quiet to you
can never be silenced
in me.

Look in the mirror
and tell me
what you seem to see.
You see,
that girl in the mirror
staring back at me
customarily seems
to have the match
in her hand,
threatening to cease
what we perceive
as "me".
I could never tell you
about the match,
silently waiting
in her hand.