You’re picking every single door
except the one I could never lock.
Consciously you know there could be one more
but you’ll continue on your never ending walk.
“Even though she knows you’d go through Hell,
why would she love you? She knows you too well.”
Accept the truth and I’ll face the wrath,
I am the root but you’re always the path.

We see days and nights at separate times,
they appear the same but differentiate.
I **** on lemons but bathe in the bitterness of limes
encircled in salt; for sugar I’ll have to wait.

What doesn’t **** me only leaves me on the brink of death,
right hand on heart as I lost my left.
I’ll form the only links that I know
and wait to hear, “I told you so.”

I stop short of screaming those crucial words
you don’t need to hear it, they’re engraved in your mind.
Instead I whisper them to the trees, the leaves and birds,
they’re the only company that I find.

What doesn’t **** me only leaves me on the brink of death,
I’ve saved your truth for my last breath.
You’ll find it all in each day with age,
I’ll write it down in a novel; you won’t skip to the last page.
I always needed it more than you’ll ever know,
and you’ll tell yourself “I told you so.”

I’m waiting patiently to wake up
a living nightmare where I’m always stuck,
this thing called life that I have no desire for,
there’s a million exits but only one opened door.

So I raised my happinesses tolerance
now referred to only in the past tense.
Two sides and two faces; who decides which is best?
I just don’t know which one I recognize less.

My only saviour has been running late
but I promised that I would always wait.
She says I’m acting too stupid when she knows that I’m smart,
it’s these little contradictions that rip all apart.

I’m trying on all shades of purple and white,
I’ve gotten bored of only blue and red each night.
Why say so long when we can just say goodbye,
all that’s right is wrong and we feed truth a lie,
that’s the similarities and differences of you and I.

Seems I like dark deception
and the odd manipulative game,
I question quality of reflection
as each shares the same.
And it seemed like love
until I’ve finally had enough.

I tie up my own two feet
and put my hands straight to shackle,
and while the imprisonment is sweet
there’s too much bitterness to tackle.
And it seemed like love
until the rose tint got scuffed.

She shook the flowers from her hair
and my fingers were cut from the thorns of the tangles.
I thought there were a million clear signs there
I took the time to find each direction, possibilities and angles.
Did I demonize a saint?
or did I give a monster wings?
The image is up for perception, not the paint,
and the same song is different depending on who sings.

Seems I attract words of blades
and metaphorical slaps in the face,
deciphering shadows into different shades
and ranking them last to first place.
And I wanted it to be love,
but it was lower when I thought it above.

I see false inflated importance
or I see nothing at all.
With black and white I took a grey stance,
but my planted feet kept me from standing tall.
An empty home with a closing wall.

Seems I like dark deception
and the odd manipulative game,
I convince myself it’s forms of affection,
so it’s only I to blame.
And it seemed like love,
but I chose the noose instead of my glove.

Playing a game of cat and mouse
but we both lose track of the bird.
My scorched soil I failed to douse,
I’m filled with such fuel; it’s so absurd.
I linger always alone in an empty house,
speaking two thoughts but I left out the last word.
They were meant with love but I turned to grouse,
either way they never seem to be heard.

I wish I was licking stamps
instead of licking my wounds.
My letter to you gifts my fingers cramps,
I hope one day you decipher it soon.
The one thing that I am best at
is always being a bad example,
I can elaborate on how to keep looking back,
but not on the best way things should be handled.
And I hope one day you’ll see your name
woven in each line and all my stanzas.
But I think when you see it that way, I’ll just explain,
not to go buying me green bananas.

When I was 15 I chose to sign up as an ***** donor,
but all are probably damaged, and the vital ones are no longer mine.
I offered them as tribute to a Queen I adore,
she collected them and added to her shrine.

My tongue is tied tight when I try to express
importance and just what it all means to me,
but if you listen closely to my chest
you’ll hear my heart beating steadily.
And when you’re dressed to the nines
I’ll still be in left in my pajamas.
Waving my arms to direct the signs,
just don’t go buying me green bananas.

I accepted your world became my cage
but I was loyal; I didn’t need a lock.
I reasoned it as the final stage,
I didn’t need a chain just for you to mock.

I’m not angry, I’m not sad,
no resentment from me, don’t go feeling bad.
I’d still take this dagger as long as it’s your hand that grips
I wouldn’t escape or try to stagger,
sadly I’m done with my trips.

I concede and admit that I’ve gone mad,
welcomed with hallelujahs and an amen.
I’m having trouble stripping off my plaid,
but I figure it’s finally time to change stripes again.

I spotted a fortune teller at an old county fair
while knowing the answers I still looked for some there.
There was no love line or fate line she could’ve read,
I told her I bet there’s no sun line, life line or trace of a head.
She met my eyes with sadness written all over her face,
and told me out of all people that I was her worst case.
She traced the inside of my hand intently trying to see
then she asked me had I recently been burned severely.

In my death bed I’ve been waiting patiently for sleep
sadly I’m not the one it wishes to greet.
With past scars and present fresh wounds tunnelling down so deep,
loss of blood and mind so I’m left as just a sack of meat.

A loving caress to each feature
but succeed in only poking the bone,
and every single living creature
dies completely alone.
She was a rainbow and I; charcoal grey,
they all choose to go but claim they wish to stay.

The beeping bouncing off the wall
steady like sirens or alarms,
and at the end of it all
we all die in our own arms.
She was a rainbow and I; charcoal grey,
I still catch her glow but it’s fading away,
I know it could never last, but I still have to pray,
‘cause I am the past and she’s only in today.

I’ve acted strong and kept up this ruse,
atleast I can say I’ve always been brave,
but when I’m not digging up the past, ghosts or clues,
I’ve steadily been digging my own grave.

No lines, no ties, not a single strand.
I’ve got the palmist right in the palm of my hand.

I’m breaking down along with our economy
and all around they only want more from me.
The end of my rope but I’ve been tethering,
searching out hope but it’s straining and weathering.
Who cares? There’s nothing good to find,
the never ending stairs within my mind,
I’ve kept going, without knowing,
and there’s no result showing.

If you ask me what I’ve wanted the most,
it’s to destroy this parasite; I’m not much of a host.
I’m just waiting, debating
and operating almost like a robot.
I walk alone, I have no home.

I think I’ll crash if I continue going at this rate,
or maybe just break down; it’s still up for debate.
It seems like everyone in the world is ******* me
except for the select few who I wouldn’t mind *******.
Wouldn’t it be exciting for our system to start igniting?
But you know we’d foot the bill
‘cause we’re paying them still.
They crave our money and vote but don’t care to hear us speak,
so my sincerest thanks for letting me work to barely eat.

If you ask me what I’ve wanted the most,
it’s to have an outside life; this routine’s made me a ghost.
It’s been draining, to be maintaining
this training to become a robot.

If you were to ask what our Country needed the most,
it’s lower taxes and more production from East to West coast.
We’re all slaving, and behaving
for laboursaving just like a robot.
I’m not alone, I notice each clone.