She weeps,
Vibrato tears,
I get the creeps,
Of being myself.
Of trying to be,
The best in this golden hour;


The devil sold the broken hearts
to Amateur angels,
Who practice
healing,
In angel schools.
I tried to write -
an exam to enter,
They said my mind wasnt quite centred;

I end up behind the bars,

The bar I mean,

Alcohol and whiskey,

They are two different entities,
Some get titites!
Some get a beer!

Some tell me this word play is outdated,
So-
I look them in the eye,
I look them in the lips,
I ask~  if they got filtered tips; ?;

I roll them up into a paper,
I smoke them all,
I smoke them in pieces,
Sometimes the brain matter is too much to handle;

I don’t gamble,
I just love rock and roll,
Someone is dancing under that blue ball-
She is pretty.
I wonder if I can talk to her.

Moving on,
They got stalls,
They sell whiskey and alcohol!

I wonder what the gods drink.

Lemons for breakfast.
Bread, bacons & coffee.

There is yellow for my lust,
And I’ll walk by the sea.

With her by the side
She’s got nothing to be defied

Yellow for my lust
Lemons for breakfast

There is nowhere else to be.

Will you please marry me?

Darkness demands pain,
Pain demands feelings,
But you just stare at the ceiling,
And depression’s got a great deal.

But still is the sky,
And the pillows on your bed

The table is messy
Your OCD needs to be fed.

The voices from The echoing sky
Keeps howling

“Don’t be ashamed  in the dark”
“Don’t be ashamed by your design”
She said.
“It’s fine,
don’t croon,
don’t loose your dime.
Sure darkness demands pain
But,
Darkness also demands to be decorated with fairy lights.

I’ve seen that pretty face,
I blushed and I’ve seen that pretty face,
I crushed and I’ve seen that pretty face,
I just can’t get over it.

I’ve seen that pretty face,
I hope she isn’t ugly in the inside.
Seen that pretty face
It keeps me away from suicide,
Seen that pretty face though that face hasn’t seen me.

That pretty face
makes me think twice before I munched the third donut.
And I don’t nut
Because I’ve seen that pretty face and I don’t want to be fat.

I’m far from her but i still see her
pretty face
In my mind,
All the time,
That pretty face and I can’t take this phase,
I’ve seen that pretty face
I just want to be with her

And eat cup cakes,
Eat fancy dinners,

With that pretty face,

Who has scars on her cheeks.
That pretty face,
Got burnt marks on the lips.
That pretty face,
I want to kiss her twice and thrice
And all the days that are gonna be nice
And I
Hope In time
that pretty face
Sees my unpretty face

And sees that I have a child’s  smile.

Once a wise man told me-
The hardest task for a man is to be alone.
I denied,
I was a lonner.
But then there was a burst of
pink in life
Now I really know what he meant.

I have this thirst for magic
The ones that really happen after a period called 'the static solitude'.
The one that breaks through a perdited soul,
the one that reminds you the smell of the sea shores,
The one that will put me to a path called stardom,
The one that got you and me to the land called freedom,
But this was a thought that emerged through lonely boredom,
sitting by the window on a chair in my bedroom.
So will this tamper my belief towards magic?
The answer won't surprise me for its weight is no heavy than the times I have broken down and cried and hoped too much and struggled through the time.
None of them, none at all-
Will make me belive in it.
Because I am not a magician  and
Apparently  it doesn't take me to cast a spell.
But the secret lies no far ahead.
I am the magic.