If tomorrow comes
   And I leave
         Without a trace
Not a goodbye
     Or an I love you more
Have a life of which you can say
"I made it."
  Although I'm not by your side
I'll smile down
   from above, and I'll make
It rains,  
   And with it, my tears fall
It'll be your birthday
  Smile, knowing I'm watching

My friends can't stop loving or wishing to find someone to love more
to find someone to hold them, to hold open the door
Someone to buy them roses when they go out on dates
Or watch a movie together, staying up late
But forever they go from person to person
to find the perfect match, to believe in true love
They hurt and they cry, holding their hands to their chests
Their trust was broken, and their needs continued unmet
To me, love is pain. And I can't bring myself to love anyone
Though I've tried..
Love cannot be trusted, and love cannot be held
Most of the time, love is unsuccessful for those who fall under its spell
If it's true that everyone has one, with a red string tied to each other
Someone perfect
Someone who is kind
Someone who will fit the needs of the other
When will I meet mine, or the others to stop the pain
Why must we continue to search for a treasure only to be in vain?
What if it's a myth
a fantasy
a folklore told tall ?
A secret, a story to keep hope when it continues to fall?
Humans are made to rely on others, to never hold on their own
With two pieces of a puzzle to continue evolution, to move a tower
to plant a beautiful flower, or other plants to be sown
Is it true that we're made in pairs
yin and yang, opposites always in some sort of constant compare
How is that love, and how is that peace
What if one is to forever sleep?
Prince Charming isn't coming, and a kiss will not wake
those who don't trust the world with their own fate.

Red, blue, green, purple, black, and white
water stained colors across paper
then lifting and pulling and dragging away
spirals. circles. round and round again
clouds against green and blue skies
and stars against soft velvet black
I always wondered what pinned them in place
maybe it's a thread,
wounded tightly by god's hands.
but maybe he pricked his finger on the thorn of the wheel
and fell asleep for a thousand years
these are the spirals, and the splatters of paint
that calms the beating in my chest
of the prisoner stuck in a cell, locked away
redo it, restart it, spiral again
over and over and over til the end
soon i'll build a bridge, held up by the stars
and from then comes the silver strings
tied and knotted and tangled once more
maybe I could untie it but my fingers get caught
and up i'll go
to the seat of the threading, then to the story of the loom
while the god is still behind me
sleeping or not....
maybe I could thread a little longer...
i could wind spirals and spirals
upon lives and lives
and not just in deep red, on paper or stone or skin
but spirals
carved upon the sleeping god's bones

Thunder bangs and children cry
hiding under their covers
wishing it all away
I sit, waiting
the rain slipping through my fingers
like every moment I tried to hold on to
how many days have I lasted, to this moment when I melt away?
How long for god's angry waters to flood this world? surely I can't stay
he had faith in people, and that itself is brave
to believe in a disease
forgiving not forgetting choosing who'll come and who'll leave
I wish I could hold the water
and have it cupped in my hands
like an object that is solid, grounding me
but water's not an anchor
and my shoes fill with sand
How long will it take for the waters to rise above my head?
despite the storm all is still
why am I most content
when there is a war
raging inside of me

Friends will come and friends will go
but here we walk, to travel home
side by side, step by step
here we ride, our thoughts in check
and the graveyard's only a mile away
and the reaper follows behind us these days
and if we had a stone each time we fell
I bet we'd have a stack as tall to climb out of this h*ll
So fly, fly little bird fly
fly fly breathe, please don't die
fly fly spread those wings, don't cry
birds are angels meant to glide, it's not your time
words that are meant to tell every story
but struggle to complete one
spoken songs that were supposed to tell the truth
when it was sung
kings will come, and kings will go
left to rule the ones who lost their hope
here they rise and here they fall
knowing that the earthquakes begin to shake what they built tall
and death is only a light year away
it seems so far, but it is getting close
and the people who follow behind as these days pass
bringing their children, mothers and loves
so fly fly little bird fly
fly fly breathe don't die
birds are fallen angels, meant to glide
here comes the messenger of light
it's not your time
here you'll listen
and here you'll die

May Contain Triggers

I cut all my hair, everyday
the black slowly drifting to the floor
I poured pink into my life, onto my head
to stain into colors, my vision going purple, black, then red
My once clean room piles up in the corner of my eyes
And I flinched away from the piles and piles of lies
to be ignored and locked away
just for another day
I cried all my tears, so now I sit and stare
And I for once can't somehow care
like I used to, and how I loved
many things, and grew flowers with my hands cupped
I wonder if time will forever stay still
so calm when war goes on, the murders. the kills.
I draw on skin, feeling far away
sitting there with rain dripping down my face
water to wash the blood, down, down, down
If I could hurt for my sins, maybe I'd get what I deserved
little by little,
and they all refuse to know or see it all
and I sit here with my heart starting to hurt
I stand at the edge everyday, below me I watch
the waters turn and churn into a whirlpool I can't stop
The bridge that I stand at is so far up, and I cannot see into the darkness
And reality soon begins to lose it's hardness
not sharp enough, not deep enough, not enough to lose it all
and they all believed they saw
but why did they believe I was worth it?
Even when the candles fell to create fire, but from me they were lit.
I look in the mirror, and see the pieces fall
and it cracks and beyond I hear a small voice call
If i'd made it in time, I would have made it there
But now my world crashes, and the voice disappears
so quiet, so sane, so protective, so safe
But it all still drops away
I listen to music, with the world drowned out
To watch it go by, quietly. Earth's calling in dispair
but nobody will listen
nobody will care.
Sometimes I sing, maybe because I know it will be my last
or maybe my past love I had then is now lost
Because this world goes so so fast,
and I don't know at what cost.
Every night, I sleep on the side of the bed
piles and piles below me,
and pressure and pressure from above
up I stare, and see stars I do not,
I look up at the ceiling with my windows still locked
I wish to be held, but to be never touched
to be called out to, but to me, no one shall talk
it's what I want, but I miss the old traditions
of losing myself in all the equations
I have no time, yet i have the world
though I wish I didn't
everyday I wake up, I'm afraid of the sights,
that I continue to see.
These memories I must keep,
this act I must play,
keep my mouth taped, or sewn shut
Maybe one day the thread will wear off.
But for now the waters fight itself below me,
and I wonder how it'd feel to jump
to take in a breath
and to let it hold me like  I let no one else
or do I still sit here as dawn starts to ring its bells?
We will see
we will see

I wonder why people cannot forgive, for even the things I try to hold slip away
I wonder why people cannot forget, for it seems far too easy for me
the things I try to do just fall apart and what I've built
is far too weak
I wonder why people can't cry, for my tears become a river
then it becomes a raging drought that I cannot help become alive
I wonder why people get angry, for my heart it cannot hold
when I come up in defense, I promise anger is not my sword
though sometimes I carry pointy daggers and pointy arrows
I promise that they're made of foam and of my own sorrows
what's outside is not in, and what I hold is not a sin
is it? is what I will question, but I cannot make it so
I wonder why people cannot see the world as it is
a snake in a garden, like the garden of Eden
We have become a parasite, one seeking to destroy
to live and protect a world we say is ours
I wonder why we cannot heal, and how we shy away from the sun
why I love the rain when they love the snow
and I the thunder and them flowers, they'd only know
I wonder a lot of things, and for those it'll never be
answered because this world is a strange place
that will not be here much longer
I hope that they'll know the destruction and the pain
while I search for something
to make this world even a little worth it