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CrowesMuse Dec 2013
Bring me back to
Holding hands in the rain
I want to see the drops
Running down your face
Hiding the tear tracks
Baby don't you see?
You're it for me.
So just
Bring me back to
Holding hands in the rain
Let me show you this world
Through prisms and rainbows
Jumping through puddles and
Singing.
Bring me back to
Holding hands in the rain
So I can tuck your hair back
From your gaze,
Smile while you laugh
At my racoon face
So won't you just
Bring me back to
Holding hands in the rain
CrowesMuse Nov 2013
You see I only see my brother
On very rare occasions
And I've lost my mother to her lover
A man named Merlot.

Two years ago I thought about killing myself
And if I had to write a list of 20 reasons I'm still alive?
Six of them would be teachers names,
One for the girl who stood by me
The last thirteen all are the name of the boy who's birthday is forever inked
Into my left wrist.

These are all simple facts.

Much like the fact that I don't know how to cut the toxic out of my life
Or preserve the positive.
Similar to how I can't stop doing things that I know bother people,
Just for some kind of reaction.

I'm pushing
   and pushing
Because you see, I'm in the habit of full force shoving
(people right out of my life.)
Though I'm not sure where I got it from
This trait is a ***** dark part of me
That screams to be fixed.

The best part of this all is, well.
I'm watching myself doing it.
The problem is
It's like watching a family have thanksgiving dinner
While you stand looking through a window
In the pouring rain
yelling at them to
Just ******* look
In the doorway
Just ******* see the serial killer that's about to come in and destroy it
All.

It's the simple fact that I'm just standing there
Watching as they are slaughtered

Freezing
When the killer looks out the window,
Lifts their hood,
Lets out a sigh.
It's the killer staring at you and you staring right back.

It's realizing that you're looking into your own eyes.

That's what my life is right now, and I just can't find it in myself
To walk in and take the knife from my own hands.
I can't stop the slaughter even though every fiber of my being is screaming out save them.

My life is not moving
Because maybe saving them from yourself?
Means letting the slaughter happen.
CrowesMuse Oct 2013
I come from a workaholic and an alcoholic
and maybe that's why I'm so **** sure
I'm just a little bit pyschotic.

We all have bad days
Where we want to curl up and cry
But somewhere
I'll remind you
The sun fought the clouds to shine.

And I come from screams and fighting and blame
So maybe that's why it feels like no day is my day.

But you, my darling,
Remind me of yellow.
Bright and beautiful
Blooming like petals.

I come from darkness and fire
But what I have realized is
In this life
We are all from something, that's not what makes us.

It's where we're going that counts.
CrowesMuse Sep 2013
"You killed a man"
They say over and over
In his head
"You killed a man."
They repeat to him
Until he knows they can not be wrong.

He walks the streets
wondering if the eyes that glance him over
while they walk on by
know that on average
a person walks past a murderer
36 times
in their life.
"You killed a man"
He expects one of them to scream.

She is different
He knows this from they day they first meet
The voices go quiet
Almost allowing him to sleep.

He takes her on dates,
tells her
his hopes and dreams
though it is not until the night
they decide to combine their resources
in a cramped damp apartment
with a view of the sunset against the skyline
that he decides to tell her
the words that once were on
replay
inside his mind.

"I killed a man."
He whispers to her.
His voice bright
In direct contrast to the darkness
of the night.
As his hands tap the covers
Twice then once then twice again.

Her eyes caress him,
touching him in ways he knows can not be done
with hands
as he repeats
"I killed a man."
His eyes fixed on the ceiling,
Counting the tiles
To be sure
that 101
has not changed to 102
and the stain in the 81'st hasn't shifted to 22'nd.

He jumps at the feeling of her touch

Voice sharp
Hands soft.
"Tell me."
The demand
so quiet
he wonders if it was just the sound
of settling dust.

He turns to her,
Finds the question in her eyes.
It's a drastic change
from the haunted look he expected
if only to reflect
what he sees in the mirror every day.

"I killed a man." He says once again,
For the millionth time in his life
though only
the third
outside of his head.

Her fingers trace his face.
Thumb running across his lips.
She opens her mouth,
and quietly whispers the words he never dared to
even consider
"The man you killed,
was yourself."
CrowesMuse Aug 2013
In a world of zombified teens so loaded up on antidepressants,
anti-anxiety and anti things-
it must be asked.

Did that boy who jumped off the bridge just last week,
leap in an attempt to grow wings?
Maybe he did it just to see if he'd be scared?
Or perhaps.  
He felt just too much to live
with the numbness his medication offered
He was never looking for
A temporary solution to his pain.

What about that darling girl who's arms and thighs are
In a love affair
With an abusive razor?
Does she stay with him for fear of going back,
Again and again,
only to be called weak for leaving in the first place?
Or for the fear that she'll
Never
Feel the same exhilaration
From another's kiss?

The last question of tonight.
How is it that I am just noticing now,
How carefully he avoids the word
Home
Almost as if he knows the place
I grew up in
Will never be a home again.
Not to me.
Does he know,
It represents
Nothing but a return to the front line?
Just like being ****** back into the trenches
A still wounded soldier.
Nothing but a band-aid
Covering what once
Was a gaping bullet hole.

She still feels his hands on her.
They sound as loud as a grenade in her head
The slap of his hand traumatizing as an atom bomb,
She reaches for her lover,
Hoping he can distract her from the battle
All while
Neglecting
To acknowledge he brings with him
His own
War.

They all stand at his funeral
Holding hands and saying a prayer.
Hoping,
Praying,
He grew his wings.
Nobody understood
What could have led him
To choose the pain of
A jump
Over
The silence of a pill
Or the speed of a bullet.
Most of all though,
His mother just wants to know
Why he didn't tell her he needed to be held.

We all have our demons,
Skeletons in the closet.
What people don't realize is
Wars are fought every day
The trenches lie
Not in Dead-Mans Land
but
Inside our heads.
CrowesMuse Aug 2013
Mother oh Mother. Why?
I find myself
Torn
Between two lives

Mother, oh Mother,
My future self and my past strife
They battle
As I watch with wide eyes

Mother oh Mother,
My head pounds
As my heart
Is pulled two ways
Splitting down the middle
Like the poems I wrote in the beginning of high school

Mother oh Mother,
They were ripped to shreds
And tossed in the trash compactor,

Mother oh Mother,
My heart can't take the same fate
As my first love letter.
Laughed at and ignored,
Set aside when it became a bore.

Mother oh Mother,
you once told me
Don't ever grow up
Well that was a sore mistake
Considering I grew up
Far too quickly
In order to make up
For your ****** up faith
In that ******* bottle

Mother oh Mother,
Do you remember the night
That you shattered it against the wall
(you had missed my head)

Mother oh Mother,
it made for a pretty metaphor
Representing
My life after you
Decided
Facing demons
Was best done
With a little help
From your friends
Jack, Jose and Morgan.

Mother oh Mother,
They never had any right
To take over our lives
Just like him
An invader
Nothing like kin.
No matter how much you insist
There's no problem,
Not even you,
Can begin to understand
What they've cost you.

Mother oh Mother
The memory is clear
As the night you wept,
"Don't grow up to be like me"
You whispered it quietly
Just past midnight
While you sipped on your wine.
Out of  that diluted cracked glass,
Sleeping pills in hand.

Mother oh Mother
Do you remember how I sighed?
Closed my eyes.
Hid my tears,
It never did me well to cry
Not with you.

Mother oh Mother,
That night stands clear in my mind.
I took you to bed,
Tucked you in, kissing your forehead.
Setting yet another glass of clear water, two advil down
This night was repeated far too many times.

Mother oh Mother,
Do you even know?
Every single last day
I was screaming on the inside

Mother oh Mother,
Mother oh Mother,
Mother oh Mother,
Why?
CrowesMuse Aug 2013
An Open Letter to my Best Friend**

You, dear are the strongest person I know,
And trust me when I say, I know a lot of people.

You stand, rooted as deep as an oak tree in my heart
Your eyes find their way into my dreams, burning with passion and fired belief.
Your sorrow matches the winds of the sea
Constantly badgering you
With the threat of drowning,
I'm so scared you'll take yourself from me.

Your voice is something,
I can only be thankful for
Coming to me in times of need
It has all the power to make my heart soar, suturing the bleed.

Your dreams,
You've been told,
Are far fetched at best
And unachievable at most.

What people don't understand
Is unicorns are shy creatures
Who just don't have the heart
To prove they exist.
Even though they run free,
Jump high
And take great pride
(Their horns are always meticulously shined.)

I think back on the times
You taught me to be strong
Without even knowing
You were consistently adding words  
To my life's song.

The melody just a little sweeter
While it plays in my head
Added like you do with sugar to your coffee before bed.
Sparingly,
But needed.
Oh so very needed.

You, my darling, have your roots dug deep
Your dreams being dreamed
Your life, I do believe
Is worth so much more than an amount that any bank could offer,
Is worth more than the english language can explore,

And all I need you need to remember,
The alphabet is composed of 26 letters,

Voldemort wasn't always in power,
take each insult
And pull a Tom Marvolo Riddle out
of the sorting hat.

Believe that the positive outweighs the negative,
And yes that means your scale is wrong.
Tumblr's idea of pretty girls,
Doesn't take place in my song.

So this is an open letter,
To my very best friend.
Darling, please know
You can always depend
and lean
and cry on
and hate
and call
and love
and trust

me.
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