A house, a home, a family, of this you say you dream..
even aloft, once long ago,
since a young lass upon 13…
Oh marry ways, the fruitful days,
of which the masses would lay claim…
The wonderful type, of the family life,
alas,
exclusively,
betrothed in fame…
So I struggle hard,
and I worry harder,
In life’s en vogue, mais toujours scénarisé,
We sign the charter, I play the martyr,
Leading the charge while you talk down to me…
Be a man, be tough, be proud,
They whisper, nay, proclaim aloud!
While you’re coddled ripe, and spoiled rotten,
I’m covered in blight, spoiled, and rotten..
My cries, they carry,
my echos forgotten,
A whisper one would say…
But if I’m closing my eyes, and and you got your way,
Guess I’m the one who died that day…

I didn’t say you did something wrong,
I didn’t say my pain is gone,
I didn’t say you’d do me wrong,
But the words I say all come out wrong,

I didn’t say you would cause me hurt,
I didn’t say you would make me dirt,
I didn’t say you wouldn’t put me first,
But the words I say only seem to cause hurt,

I know your trying and I know you are pure,
I believe you when you say you’re here,
To love and laugh and be with me,
But my anger is all you seem to see,

I didn’t mean for it to come out wrong,
Or say that I sing the heartbreak song,
Just want you to know and want you to see
There is a better side to me than jealousy...

Poetic justice is just so poetically just, only just, poetically, to the unjust....

Ghosts of past creeping through the floor like a tethered memory you cannot shake,
Echoes from the past that ripple through time
Like a stone cast aloft into a perfect midnight pond,
Regret is a cold shudder that pulses down your spine, like the tingle that you get when a ghost whispers in your ear,
The past is set lay paved in stone to an artist we call life,
But the futures still a riddle that is pondered here by all,
A puzzle that can break and twist and flip and fly and soar you high above, a puzzle that can beat and break and smash **** you straight into the mud,
Leap with care but soar with ease do not do not merely flutter, for life is gonna spoil you, one way or another...

The monster has a grip on you like a fiendish dog that ravished a piece of feral meat
Gripping all of you, holding tightly to your soul
The things you say, the things you do are actions not from self,
but like a puppet you obey
Twisting, turning and moulding you into something rather dark
the puppet master make you say, the puppet master make you do, but none of these that make you you,
your thoughts are rather twisted like a puzzle not yet solved,

I peer a glimpse of you and you say you will be fine,
I hear the things the words you say that remind me of the time,
but the time has fluttered across the sea and the memories they still fade
I hope one day you break away and the puppet master meets swift demise
But until that day, in every way,
I slowly but surly die inside

I punch and fight and
Jab and kick,
I use mean words and
Each one sticks,
I draw my sword and
Stab in deep,
It’s a fight to the death and
I play for keeps,
A twisted battle and
The end is near,
I fight with anger and
Have no fear,
A final blow and
Lost all wealth,
But it’s an endless battle
When your fighting yourself.......