A quiet morn
A girl full of distraught
A blue sky
And a grey soul.


A glass window
A peek Into the outer world
Innumerable statues
With a beating heart.

A lonely walk
Into the mind
Vivid scenery
And a dull light in the eyes

Blank pages
And the indigo ink seeping through
The more you bleed out
The less empty it feels

A dusty road
With forgotten footprints
A lost summer
With many unheard stories

A race
With no definite end point
A ticking bomb
Waiting to explode

A quiet night
And a girl full of distraught
A sky like graveyard
Stars being the buried dreams

I have run out of passionate words to write,
The fire that once burned in my heart has been reduced to the damp bits of ash.
I don't care about the moon and stars,
And music doesn't seem the same.
I cringe at the beautiful,
And I can barely remember the person behind my name.

One day I'll let go,
But tonight my arms are only going to draw you in.

She'll tell you what it feels like,
As words drip out of her mouth.
And the tears drain from her eyes,
Like her insides are trying to come out.
And she'll beg you to listen,
but she'll never know why.
And she'll force her way in,
Like a torn in your side.

She'll want what she's missing,
Her pieces of life.
But she'll trim off the fat,
Like the blade of a knife.

She'll tell you she's happy.
And lie threw her teeth.
But a wave of pressure,
Will crush her beneath.

And she's clawing her way up,
from her problems within.
And she'll buy all her prays,
With the lists of her sins.

She living a life,
Possessed by a lie.
And tomorrow she'll smile,
but inside she'll cry.

And her demons will wake her,
At first mornings light.
But the soul inside her,
Won't give up the fight.

Cherry blossoms,
Against skin so fair,
Pink like blushing lovers cheeks,
But only half as rare.