I'm a fool who's rage is written on a page
Flickering with fire, fueled by a painful desire
Unruly and unjust it burns without control
Till its content with its remains of dark ash and coal
Seeking no shelter, though it must be contained
She screams as she cries trapped in a cage
Walls adoring her, only growing stronger with age
Dreading the knocking that echos so loud
Fumbling with the keys, throwing them to the ground
Huddling into one's self, as the world grows c o l d
Yearning for somebody who can allow her to be whole
As she kicks and she screams, pushing them away
It's difficult to get past this tremendous facade
That holds so well, ingrained into her being
Disregarding the world and others well-being
How heartless and cold
How selfish and bold
Pitiful you are
with that narcissist mask, you hold
Dance me another dance
Within that ballroom of yours
Filled with the most beautiful flowers
And those demons that taunt at all hours
Its cold deep within, even with fires set aflame
As she continues burning within her own stone-cold cage.

Here we are again,
Square one.


~

does the fire ever feel like home
warm
with a soft brush to the bone

standing far away
eyes
I wait for the flames to rise

die down
couldn't be found
dancing around

clock hits zero
I can be okay
tomorrow
I make no promises

the fire is my home
I burn
I am burning
left to ashes

I will rise again

I’ve dreaded this imploding moment
my entire life unknowingly,
if there was a way to avoid it; I have blown it,
growing pains should end when you stop growing.

I’ve got speckle scars on my palms
they’re always kissing my fingernails,
there’s only one thing I’ve found that calms,
but the road collapses or the guide always bails.
“This is your brain”, but the egg doesn’t crack,
no sizzling grease rain, no white burning black.

It’s the things that feel the best that also cause the pain,
as you can only enjoy the sunshine when you’ve had a spout of rain.
Just like you can’t have a fire without an initial spark,
and you can’t bathe in the light unless you’re drowning in the dark.

But what if I’m tired of obvious consequence,
Hell, I’m tired of everything these ******’ days,
where self medicating was once used in past tense,
I think it’s time for me to revert to my old ways.

So fill a rig until it’s completely full,
and shoot me up with some false hope,
it correlates your method of push over pull,
but it’s still not as good as actual dope.
And let me rail a line of pure nirvana and bliss,
if you’re the one to cut it atleast you gave it to me technically,
if something was never there, how can it be something you miss?
I’ll keep feeding the habit until I can no longer breathe.

Destiny lost when fate found a wall of defy
to change it I would sell all of my remaining soul,
and I think I now know the reason why,
a bandaid won’t ever cover a bullet hole.

There used to be butterflies
living inside my chest,

but they turned into bats
when it got dark

The bats fed on my blood,
and my chest was their cave

There used to be orchids
blooming,
flourishing,
above my ears and to my short hair

But now I am dead,
the weeping orchid bled

As it withered upon my grave,
and emitted the scent of death and I

Its decayed petals dropped,
like blood from cut veins

The corpse flower,
scentless bloom of death belongs