We want what we can't  have.
I want to be more then what i am.
I want to be more like what you want.
You want what seems like perfection.
You want me when I'm not around
But when I'm home I'm not good enough?
I want to give you what you want and need,I can't, I try my best.

We want something that's as epic as Romeo and Juliet but we end up like Adam and Eve.
Bringing nothing but turmoil to our world , or is it just on my end am I weak ,is that my flaw?,

I feel to much even when there is nothing there?
I want to know your secret.
How are you so Unphased by what's happening?
You want to know why I try so hard
I'll give you the answer...
I want to be happy.
I want to live in bliss.
I want you.
You want the same but it seems not with me,
the irony.

Do we listen to the voices in the wind, see the ghosts, pleading, slowly fading?
Are our ears closed off or are we hard of hearing, eyes shut aswel, not seeing being sightless?
Is the only pain we feel anymore our own,  whats anothers pain worth, nil just an echo?
Does no-one trully hear there sighs silently screaming for help, begging?
Am I one of them that does not listen, feels and looks, deaf dumb and blind?
Can I and they be taught and changed, open to the sight and sounds of anothers pain?

i will scream until my throat falls in on itself
falls on all the leftover "I Love You"s and galaxies and the words to our favourite songs
piece by piece my body continues to disintegrate, to implode,
and all i can see is your eyes when you laugh
and the only feeling i can grasp onto is when you kissed me;
how it felt like you were giving me your world.
a world i thought i was living in,
a world i thought i could understand
when in reality, i was sitting on the moon looking down on it,
never able to adjust to your atmosphere/


your face is laced to the back of my eyelids;
even the salt water that rushes behind them
refuses to eat it away.
*******, science./

Baby, all I want for Christmas is a blade inscribed with
"Give me Freedom or Give me Death,"
delivered with a Big Red Bow and
the Scent of Your Cologne.
Liberty is a synonym for Demise and I think
that if you stabbed me through The Heart
it will never hurt as much as when I ripped
It out For You myself.
You tried to place It back in,
but once It's removed,
It will Never Beat
the same way again.
Sprinkle My Blood in the snow
and call it Decorating For Christmas.

running out of feeling can be so relieving
sometimes becoming completely numb is comforting
ive gone through every emotion in the past 24 hours
and i think now i am dead.
dead until another memory jolts me back to reality.
there i am again, sliding my heart under the table to you
but you dont even look up
you dont look at all
you let it fall to the floor
"i broke a glass
thats all mum
im sorry"

im sorry
im so sorry
why wasnt i enough
inadequate
marginalized
who am i
im a ghost with a cigarette heart
i gave it to you
you tasted it
i guess you didnt like the love it was laced with
and you blew it back into my sky


it's true what they say,
never to fall in love with a writer
youll live forever
suffering eternal eyes poring over your
lapses
the way you touch
the way you feel
the way you smell
the way you ---

Walking around the dead grass and up through the trees
the bell rings and they
scatter.
Not to the winds,
but to ground.
Looking around with wild in their eyes,
they want the world to end.
Then they can be kings.
Dodging a society that chained them to small strips of lands.
The map is drafted in blood and cold.
They never look up the heavens,
for fear of hope.
Hope is something to be earned,
not for everyone.
The sun forgets to shine,
waiting for the moon to die.

So old,
they have forgotten their names.
The flames of reality burn their skin,
scorched earth and flesh.

The angels look down from Heaven and
scream.
This is the chosen people.
One day,
The monsters will come out of their trees,
rise from the dead grass.
Walk this Earth as they once did.
Until then,
their eyes will pierce the ground
and their feet will float.