her soul burnt, charred pieces fell apart,
the flames of the cruel fire seared into her heart,
and what was it made of?
Only what people made of it, as a heartless soul
but she only knew of love and that's all she wanted
until they killed her soul
and buried her ashes.

grown into flowers,
her ashes cried every morning,
they hurt her terribly
but nature has it's consequences

a being that is easy to anger
is easily controlled

my new years resolution
comes out more like a suicide note;
all languid lines and
lists that won't mean anything to the dead

i'd rather swallow it than keep it
i can live with a few scars