monsters, monsters everywhere
hold my hand and lead me out of here
eyes, their eyes like you and I,
faces normal, unable to dehumanize
every bit an equal to you or I,
they’re not hiding under some scary disguise
evil is not an exclusive trait,
evil grows inside of all,
blame it on fate
it’s targets are not set in stone,
the only safety is all alone
water it and show it the sun,
blossoms brightly, overgrown
to destroy it now, seems impossible
where to run?
I am not an open book;
I am not an easy read.
you pried open my cover,
and engraved your name on the sleeve.
ink bleeding through the layers,
pure white pages made unclean.
you wrote down a story,
and I let myself believe.
You warned me not to love you,
That you just weren’t worth my time,
But your flaws are only fatal,
Because I’d **** to make them mine.
Late valentine’s poem...
Hope you enjoy.
I always thought we were the perfect match.
But matches are meant
and burn out.
Got so high
i dreamt of you once again-
i wish i had not woken up.
This is not a poem
But a question
The answer to which
I do hope you have
Why does my lover claim to love me
But still looks for every opportunity
To let me go?
Is it that she loves me so much
But doesn't think she's worthy of me
Or she doesn't love me enough
To think I'm worthy of her?