What exactly would you get
if writers changed the things they wrote
If painters changed their style
And singers butchered every note

Romance books by Stephen King
Horrors told by Suess
Comedic plays by E.A. Poe
And **** by Mother Goose

Dali paints like Monet
Monet paints like Degas
Van gogh would hang his brushes up
And go and detail cars

Michael Buble singing screamo
Operatic stuff by ****
Yoko Ono would seem right in tune
It's enough to make one sick

I hope it never happens
It would change things quite a lot
But you know, I think that **** by
Mother Goose could be quite hot!

Is there life to be breathed into a dream long since dead?
Is it too late to strive for what could still be?
If life's journey has pulled things far out of shape, can the path still be found?
Everyone is where they need to be, so then is it that what was meant to be is?
Does longing in the heart really mean that something is missing?
How can a void, however minuscule, be filled if no one knows how it came to be?
How important should one be made to feel?
If there is so much happiness in this place, why does it feel like someone else's life?
These days are good, but a little empty.
So is it better to have days that are full of bad?
If there is hope for more, does that mean that there will be more?
If you want it, but getting it might cause pain, should it be sought anyway?
When is it time to be top on the list?
In order to be on top, do others have to be pushed down?

I am running away
something is trying to hunt me like a pray
she sunk her claw deep into my heart
pulled it out and ate it as her treat
I turn cold and watch her eat while my heart beats
I beg for Mercy but she continues killing softly.
As my soul leaves my body I watch from a distance
a woman that i once know turn into a beast.
Scratch marks covering me head to toe.
My Body and soul becomes numb
The pain of your love is cutting me deeper that the pain over my body.
the blood in my veins engrave  your name  on the floor.
I rewind my mind about each moment that you said I love you
The moment were your thought is stuck in the corners of my mind.
Your like a ghost haunting my brain.
I become a puppet in your hands.
As I sink deep in the darkness, I look into your eyes.
I cry tears and realize that the love that I emptied on you has gone with no return.
You look at me with those cold eyes and laugh me off.
I ask myself how can my love warm the heart of the beast.
A loving kiss that touches you lips in all passion  rushes through your body like a boomerang.
She wakes up from the darkness to see the light.
but its too late as my corps lies there with the wounds all open.
My spirit fly's to the sky with the hope to have soften the beats heart more earlier.
If no boundaries were surrounding their love.
If she would allow me to love her unconditionally.
But it is too late.
as i ascend to meet my creator I say to you I love you a love that flows with no end.
I hope you move on with someone that can continue loving you with a stronger frequency than I do.

so tell me again
how this ends,
is it with your knife through my chest
or your gun to my head ?