Teach me how to love again.
Teach me to love again.

- One word can change the meaning of a simple sentence.

But that is not my argue. You see, I lost the love I thought I understood then replaced with a caring heart. A caring soul.

Which once I believed was love; was abuse. And now left curious wondering through time like a drunk cat becoming ever so curious.

Am I leaning to far on my heels?
Will curiosity **** me like our dear friend?
Will I shrivel into a mindless existence?
Who will I lose?
Who can I love?

Teach me to love again... For I want to love you.

How dare you give love an age.
I am not to be named an age where love begins or ends.
We are born of heart, born of feeling, born of emotion.
To be born of emotion you must be alive with capability of all feeling, including love.
Young heart, soul; lovely amour.

Blades split my wrists.
Pills fill my stomach.
Fourteen years young yearning for eternal rest.
But why must these thoughts consume my mind in class? At home?
Deathly shadows hold hands; wrapping around craniums boney crown, through eyes, finger tips and toes. Sealed from mouths, sound never escapes thy lips. In death, and in life. For blades will always speak a written language on arms and thighs that can never be told through expression of word.

To live safe, isn't living. To always obey, to follow all rules and guidelines...

Living is occasionally defy parents, living is breaking rules carefully and cautiously. Maybe being safe is perfectly fine with you, but the adrenaline... You haven't lived until you've felt that specific rush, whether its lust or sin, you haven't lived. You haven't enjoyed the big experiences. The memorable ones. The ones that you bring to your death bed.