The physician madeth me aware
I haveth one year or less to liveth
I toldeth him tell mi amour' I loveth her
And ask her for all mine pains canst she forgiveth?
Telleth mi amare I'll be waiting in the 9th row booth
Wherein serpahim art chaperone's
And ourn name's shalt be engraved on heavenly elephant tusks pew's...
Please telleth her not to walketh past me
For she just must remember mine garb shalt be clarion crystal.
She won't see none more sadness in me
She shalt be there next to me
In spiritual nestle!!!
Telleth mi amour' doc
I shalt be in waiting mode
For telleth her soon the world's ending
I shalt be there to protect her soul....

Tis bad enough being trapped in thy own head
If even trapped physically in thine own carrion luggage body..
Though she's trapped in her own soul ....
The worst feeling,
So God Gaveth me a key to set her free.  
But she keep's pushing away mine hand's to unlock her....
Though tis,
I wilst continue to tryeth to reach mine hand to her lock......
And if she keeps pushing mine hand away,

Guess I'll just have to be a criminal
And pick the lock....

Mirror mirror on the wall
Who shalt be
The loneliest of them all.
I walketh down alleys
In lonesome stall's
A romantic of old valley's
Roaming the halls...

Sometimes,
When we cometh
Us angels afterward's must goeth.....
And though we seeketh not to leaveth...

It's only for those humans
To open up and believeth....

The world runneth from what they don't knoweth,
I runneth away from what I do knoweth......
The norm scares me....

mine de tendre bavures la chute de la déchirure que les années goutte de vie de la mine, reine de rêve de, ne peut pas une réalité que nous faisons dans la vie ourn? dans lequel il n'y a pas de douleur, ni les conflits, mais un trésor que nous mettons la main de ourn dans tous les temps, nous devons une tranche de eachother amour !!! Que fais mienne l'aorte haveth en magasin oh acknowledger de la mine aimer sort ..... ce sort à l'enfer de poète oh lonesome ...... ( french tongue)

(English translate)

Mine tender smudged tear's fall as years drop from mine life, queen of dream's, can't a reality we make in ourn life? wherein there's no pain nor strife, but a treasure chest we put ourn hand's into every time we need a slice of eachother's amour!!! What dost mine aorta haveth in store oh loving acknowledger of mine spell!???..... this spell oh lonesome poet's hell......

Don't knoweth if anyone else feeleth this way
But when thyelf taketh a break from HP
And cometh back more lonesome,
Seeing all the other lover's writeth
Mine heart sinketh to the abyss
I feeleth I want to go to sleepeth...

Yes
Tis
I do admit......
I tend to wanna rush things
BaD iDeA!!!!
Yes ive always liked thing's the ,( fast and easy way,)
Though look where that got me.....
(PRISON)!!!!
As the saying doth go....
If thou seeketh something good,
Than I must haveth patience.....
How true is that statement!!!!

Ourn folk's telleth us
The monster's art the one's who resideth under ourn bed....
They told me when I greweth up....
BRANDON,
Son....
We lied to thee....

The true monster's
Art the rich one's running ourn government
And planting evil in thy cities.....
They don't hide under the bed,
But in bunker's!!!!
And mansion's built by their own pity....

I'm not any poet but I have notice this all miserable people inside  for some reason have to hurt good people who don't deserve to be hurt at all? Why is that? Why hurt innocent people from your own *******? Don't know I can't answer this one Maby someone else can?

Neither of us had a slightest clue
How oblivious were we
Of all the magic destined in tomorrows
Sprouting from the spark we ignited
The first time our eyes met each other

Outside that coffee shop.

Your eyes are still the same grey-blue
In every way you are still you.
Yet your smile’s not warm, your voice not soft
You’re not sending, my heart aloft.
"I love you, I always will"
Yet looking at you, my heart lies still.

I guess we truly, weren’t meant to be,
Since there nothing between you and me.
Not kindness, nor friendship, nor even lust,
I was right, and all is dust.

Messin wit da wrong chicka
Sum jus jealus
They Kant tuch me
I'm much bedda
Let dem be jealus
They aren't worth da time