Vulnerable, scattered all over the show;
One man sees life while another man died.

At least dance all around my naked body,
or should I be clothed?

I don't feel natural these days anymore.

Describe the scene, a dream that followed a horrible crime, and I must of played that album a hundred times by now.

A letter, one of my alluring poems from the mentally disorganised.

No collection of words makes one man listen, and the power to not notice a boy who stood still.

And I signed it as I did: ''From Alfred.'' with nothing but one kiss.

Because two more too many I wouldn't mean.

"Will you love me for fifty years?" The young girl asked beside the tombstone.

"Of course! I've loved you a whole week already, haven't I?"

And suddenly his hand was placed on-top of mine, and I looked towards him like glitter.

Under the arches, the school children watched the couplet conjoin as they face each other in bliss. The newlyweds and likely lads throw their flowers as they walk on the mud; puppy love if you ask me.

"Do you kiss boys, Muriel?"

"Sometimes, if he's charming."

"Well, aren't you frightened?"

"Oh, why should I be frightened? It's quite nice when you get used to it I would say!."

Red wine and flowers says the romantic run-away.

"And will I see you again?" Maybe when my face is white and not blue.  

The chocolates are nice Jack but I'm black and bruised.

And do you miss love?

In circles we go,
around we try.

But at some point soon,
we'll stop and maybe die.

And there you stand,
and not to loose.

But one day soon,
it's you who'll bruise.

And day after day
Repeated ground.

To fit you with a muzzle,
and ******* into town.