Are we not so different?
An angel consorting with a heathen,
A heathen consorting with an angel?
Both traitors.
Both committing frequent treason.
Both doomed to remain as static entities.
Unchanging, Unmalleable.
Opposite extremities,
Yet still on the same spectrum.
So what makes us so different?
Perception?

What happens when my bliss,
Resides in you?
And when you leave,
What the **** shall I do?

Happiness is temporary,
I've been taught many times.
And you, my dear,
You're oh so sublime.

You, my love,
Many times, proved an angel,
But my love for you,
Proves my being to be in danger.

Because love is not forever,
And bliss is just for a minute.
And love resembles bliss,
Which unfortunately, I am in it.

For to lose you is my death,
And to love you is a threat.
To need you causes stress,
I need you and nothing less.

I love you.
I cannot outrun that fact,
And if you decide to run away,
Would bliss ever come back?

Reflection.
In what does this action possess?
In a woman,
A man must reflect.

Every action committed,
In a woman,
A man's must be requited.
In order to succeed.

For a woman wants a man,
And a man wants a woman,
She draws truth from his hands,
And lies from his stomach.

For a woman's actions,
A man must reflect,
In order for the man,
To gain some respect.

Chivalry isn't dead,
And to him,
He feels he must resurrect,
The art, for it was hers from the start.

I've got incisions,
From my intuition,
Telling me to grip,
This bare blade tightly.

I constantly contemplate the killings.
Never someone I know,
Always strangers.

I envision the moans they'd make,
If I ever came to commit.
When I bare blood upon my blade,
And bring to life my first offense.

It's hardly out of anger,
Simply misplaced aggression,
And overprotection,
Of every type of human danger.

I see my psychiatric state,
Is unstable.
And if it ever came to it,
I know that I'd be able,
To draw upon a passerby,
With only bad intentions.
And create a ******* carcass,
Out of a criminal on a mission.

3 days without a remedy.
Nothing to remind me,
Of who I am,
And not who I was.

3 days and I'm tweaking,
Because you aren't here.
I keep losing my temper,
And biting my tongue.

I can hardly control myself.
I have no medication,
For the inevitable insanity,
That is creeping up faster than ever.

Being this way makes me wonder,
How I ever got you in the first place.
I am not a pleasant being.
I'm ****** and unstable.

I'm not me.
I'm the other me.
The left me,
Because you bring out the right in me

My hands are trembling,
Just sitting here.
I'm going to combust.
And when I do...

I'm taking everybody with me.

What Light speaketh,
Unto the Darkness?
Whom is more forceful?
Which is more tyrannous?

Must you succumb to Light?
Or fear the Darkness?
Or both?
Must you Succumb to Light?
In order to overcome Darkness?
And if thou dost not fear Darkness?
When why should thee succumb to Light?

Light doth not symbolize good.
Light is as violent as Darkness.
For both are to be feared.

Light to be feared because of its' fickleness.
And Darkness to be feared of its' unknowing.

Pick up thine poison.
Acquire light, and thou art doomed.
Venture into darkness,
And thou art doomed.

Tis true, that the creatures,
Lurk in the shadows.
But the Light dost not,
Have them vanish.
Creatures are not banish'd,
From the Light.
But Darkness makes them unseen.

Spark thine torches,
Look among the creatures.
Yet a torch is Light,
And Light is a fickle being.

Light is easily lost,
Only to find yourself,
Once again set in Darkness.
Darkness... where the creatures roam.
Light... where the creatures are known.

Light doth not make Darkness timid.
But Light shakes below the hand of Darkness.
Light is fragile, yet darkness in itself.
For without Light, You obtain darkness.

Once again, spark thine torch.
Look beyond where the Light canst grasp.
What dost flood thine vision?
Darkness.

Permanent, Light is not.
But Darkness...
O... Darkness...
Thou art eternal.
Overwhelming and omniscient.
The world hath been created amoung Darkness.
Therefore, humanity doomed by its' creator,
To remain in Darkness for its' existence.
And Light never to prevail.

She says roses are red,
And violets are blue.
But she can't tell with her eyes,
That are all askew.

Her sight is blinded by the truth,
Which is lies that hide,
The pain and scars,
Behind her deep blue eyes.