I want a life I don't feel the need to escape from

Don't allow him to grow flowers in your heart if he's going to give them to another girl

Hadn't seen my brother in awhile, I wondered if he’d something risky.
Instead I found him at home sitting alone drowning in swigs of whiskey.
The dark living room became his cave.
The couch acted as his grave.
How strange it is to see a man become a bottles slave.
Has Bourbon withered him away until there's nothing  left to save?

Much time has passed since we roamed the woods and strolled along the creek.
Now it seems the creek has dried, the trees have died, and the forest looks bleak.
But somewhere out in the cornfield I can still here him speak.
Corn, the original form of the poison that makes him weak.

You won't consider him dangerous because he always has a weapon on hand
Like an angel with a shotgun
He was unexpected and unplanned
He's not dangerous because he's very experienced, with both women and remedies
He intrigues you
Living a carefree, exciting life is his specialty

He'll draw you in with his deep brown eyes and Cheshire Cat smile
You'll pray he keeps you around for at least a little while
It's no doubt that he has broken more bones than hearts
His hands have never scared you
Yet his poetic words made you cautious from the start

You'll consider him dangerous because he's charming, loving, and kind
No matter how hard you try,
he'll never leave your mind
The spaces between your fingers are right where his fit perfectly
It's as if you were born from the same star, knowing each other for eternity

You'll feel stupid because by now you thought you would've learned your lesson
Don't worry, for he won't **** you with harsh words or leathal weapons
But you'll fall for him and won't remember how or when
He'll **** you by kissing you once and then never again

Don't give your all to someone who doesn't want it

In my mind I'm still that same scared little boy,
Frantically playing with his toys in an attempt to forget what hurts him.
What frightens him.
The secret.
Somewhere in the fogginess of my childhood lies the key.
The key that first unlocked the door to my anguish.
Anguish that has stalked me into adulthood.
Like the secret.
I remember those terror stricken nights well.
What was I afraid would be hiding under my bed?
Or crawling in through my window?
Was it a repressed memory I feared would catch up to me?
A secret of abuse? Of Insanity?
It seemed the monster I feared was myself,
and the truth that only I can bring.
The secret.
Must I find it to feel whole again?
So I search.
Wandering through desolate subconscious paths in my mind.
Paths that lead to nowhere.
Maybe that's been it this whole time,
maybe nothing made me this way.
Just as a wolf is born with the thirst for blood.
I am a manifestation of sorrow,
The embodiment of my own hate,
I am the secret.