These cold days
never looked better
as the children cry,
"This is my kind of weather!"
shrinking from the pouring rain
my lips might never
taste the same
but we still give
till there's nothing left
or only,
till the darkness lifts
getting to the gone
or leaving us dead
I don't mind
as the water
cleans my skin
even if the sun
might never
look the same
again

and there was nothing.
No feeling,

Just a hopeless,
empty canvas,
with a shortage of paints.

Maybe
we should color with
feelings or words
painting a landscape
of life
and of hurt

but I am still
that empty canvas
unmade,
losing hope
in the artist

marked for a demon
blood for feelings and
I am one of those
unfortunately picked

promised in the moonlight

you'd give me the starry sky
and if I was with no other
then I
would be your bride

but maybe your a secret
that I
have kept within
appearing only sometimes
In dreams where I have sinned

we have lost our voices
in a silence we can't bear
and I have come to witness
that you are always there....

If my skin is made of paper
then my tears are broken glass
and I don't mind the chipping
of the porcelain
as it cracks

and I can't stop the bleeding
like I can't stop the rain
so regardless of who's screaming
I am not to blame

Strength is only measured
in the width of my painted laugh
and I can only smile
as they try to break my back

and I have built my skin
to stand in the pouring rain
so might this flimsy,
paper doll
never break or tear again

I've never found my way to shore.
'til found my way to you
or might you be the ocean floor?
who's will I can't refuse...
I've tried to find the sunlight
but the moon is as lost as me
Sinking in the starry nights
as I forget to breath
but these memories are drowning me
hands that weigh me down
I doubt I'll find the shore again
I doubt that I'll be found...

From the darkness
Came a whisper
from the words
began a thought
and another

and another broke the mirror
with pale and shaking hands
and the other
was the nightmare
laughing at the other end

I am not the victor
Nor should I be proud
you did more than kiss her
while I can only smile

Happy in the darkness
because the shadows eat my tears
Maybe they should notice
that I don't belong here

Need to write
to fill holes
with words
Patch work dolls
from verses
sewn
with a pen
and even if you
couldn't understand the lines
don't break the words
down
because seams can
come undone
and dolls
can fall
apart.