Something is missing.
You know why?
Because my heart tells me so.

Something is missing.
You know why?
Because my tears tell me so.

Something is missing.
You know why?
Because my trembling lips tell me so.

Something is missing.
You know why?
Because my wobbling insides tell me so.

Something is missing.
You know why?
Because my upset mind set tells me so.

The original sting stung worse than any hell I could imagine.
Then the pain eased for a while.
But what they don't tell you?
The wound can still hurt, even days after the bee has died,
Just for injecting his needle into your heart.

A WKD bottle and
Pizza slices on the table
Everybody waiting in anticipation
For that beat to drop
Holding each other
In a circle
Arms around each others waist
Smiles spreading laughter
As the magic
Creates swearing and shouts
Somebody's guts
Flushed down the sink
In cleaning products
Shots being taken
Faces pulled
As they squeal for the burning to leave
*Time to go home.

I take the Words
From what I see
All around
And put them together
To form some sort of coherent poem
Or story
Or whatever I shall like
And hope for the complete best

Chew that gum,
Flick that wrist,
And be that bratty little princess,
That nobody wants to kiss,
Oh, Prince Charming?
He's hoppin' on his horse,
Riding to the sunset,
To get away from you,
So shut your face,
Chew your gum,
And be a ******* diva,
Wearing that ******* crown.

Please. Pull the trigger, why don't you?
Become a murderer. A sinner.
A criminal.
People will spit upon you in the street,
Their hardly masked disgust wizened old men.
Are you really that willing?
So go on.
**Pull the **** trigger.

Red
The only colour
In this sea of grey
Red
Your red lips
Are stark against your pale skin
Red
The only colour
In this sea of grey *suits
Oh London,
You dark, stark city,
Filled with wondrous prospects
For people made of *red.

You remind me to sing and dance,
To live life and rhyme,
This train is
Clickety clack, clickety clacking
Onto the track
With a little guide from the hand that is yours,
I'm thankful for you guys,
The friends that can act more like sisters
And play the music we listened to
In each others rooms,
Because our friendship has grown to the point,
That our every nothing days
Become the days that is *something.

Sorry to bother but
Hey.
Remember me?
The one that acts nonchalant,
But feels like they're trying too hard.
How are you?
Fine.
**Don't reply.
I get it.

Rose Petals
     Pretty and red
          Wilting and scattered
         Rose Petals
      Pretty and bleeding
Rose Petals
Dying
  See the Rose Petals
         Falling and silky
      Rose petals
   Both Dead
And Dying

I skim the page
For any sign that
You acknowledged my presence
Atop the rooftop party that day

I skim the page
For the sign that
Everything was marginally magical
Below the ground of our feet that day

I skim the page
For I have seen the sign that
I needed to see.

Some tomorrows shall be filled
With glitter and sorrow
While others shall have parties and pain

Most tomorrows shall be filled
With living everything now
While thinking why, why, why?

All tomorrow shall be filled
With people and loneliness
While others shall be house guests and emptiness

*Every tomorrow shall be filled
With something, nothing, and everything.
Whether we want it or not.

When your true soul mate is near,
The world becomes more beautiful,
The colours more vibrant,
And it seems that everything will be ok.

When your true soul mate strays afar,
The world becomes more ugly,
The colours more dull,
And it seems that everything will be different.

When your true soul mate has passed away,
The world becomes more depressing,
The colours more black and white,
And it seems that everything will be breaking.

When your true soul mate comes back to keep you company,
The world becomes more manageable,
The colours more tinted and full of life,
And it seems that everything will be alright once more.

No Spoken Words are needed,
A cup of tea, pen to paper,
finger to keyboard,
I start to write, and words in forms,
That only the reader may understand,
Ever read, ever listen,
To the world that is being whispered into their ear,
May the words being written, produce a whole new world,
And open eyes to the world of unspoken words.

Stop.
Tell me.
Everyone is crying.
Please.