Blew a kiss to the moon
in the heavens tonight
As it wandered along
on its magical flight

Then made a wish
and if it does come true
The moon will deliver
my kiss to you

Take my hand we’ll stroll along
this winding way to somewhere far

Through maple trees, warm summer winds
with cricket songs and shooting stars

A garden path of jasmine vine
in moon beam light and fragrance sweet

We'll follow each desire known
and destinies ahead to meet

Two silhouettes, a quiet night
in footprints left on sandy shores

Around the bend, down every lane,
you by my side, I need not more

Until we reach the mountain top,
where echoes flow of wishes tossed

And we shall shout to all the world
within our love, we two are lost . . . together

She’s sweet and kind.
She’s smiling and laughing.
No one sees her frame of mind.
No one hears her heart cracking.

She’s beautiful and thin.
She’s popular and smart.
No one feels her evil twin.
No one sees her fake heart.

She loves her family and friends.
She loves animals and strangers.
No one notice her mind of cleanse.
Those around don’t feel the danger.

The time is near.
To see her other side.
Everyone feels fear.
They're afraid to be alive.

Sweet and kind changes to evil and cruel.
She have the laughter of the devil.
She is cutting the flesh with an edge tool.
The feeling of insanity is so special.

The ****** path she chose.
She is in a whole other world.
Smelling the black rose.
Her thoughts is swirled.

Black.
Red.
Light won't come back.
The victims of her bloodshed.

Her heart remains enclosed in darkness.
The colour of her mind is pitch black.
She is truly heartless.
She won’t and can’t turn back.

Her life was just a plain cover.
This is her true colour.

aware of my thighs for the first time
the chafing feeling was strange
but that was before
I would be told it was wrong
for them to feel each other this way

a flash of grey concrete
a drizzly morn
amongst school-yard mayhem
when i ran for the ball
I realised with a slap
that my tights could but fall
to reveal a small clap
a self- conscious call

an echoing sound
of my dark tiny caves
and to those all-around
it would seem to enrage
that a girl could but play
on her imaginary stage
and be so unaware
of society’s rage

against anything
that could be seen to unfit
the symmetry’s model
or prophesied kit
and if the stitches were not tied
and the girl wouldn’t sit
she would endure the world's plight
of malicious hot spit

so read out the pages
of her cautionary tale
of ****** in rib-cages
that would just bring to fail
an attention that was given
to other females
as she would learn to despise  
her own meat on the scales

....