Monsters are real, ghost are real too.
      They live inside us,
                And sometimes
They win.

my insides hurt from crying
wouldn't you want to know why?
look into my eyes
deep into my eyes
then maybe for once
you'll see

These shaky fingers I possess
Can paint a fantastic tree
They serve their purpose I guess
It's how things are meant to be.
It is with love in my heart
That I cling on to some hope.
Maybe one day my fingers will be still
Not only will I be able to cope
But I will have a stronger will.
But then the tree will be straight
and it wont look at all realistic
But then the tree awaits its fate
I will not be apologetic.
So it is a toss up, straight or still
I really dont care if my fingers shake
I love painting trees on a misty hill
or the reflections around a lake.
That is settled then, perfection.

A broken heart is never
ever healed
only scarred
tucked away
and concealed
You never stop shedding tears
they only lessen
harden and
dry up over the years
However, the blood never, ever stops flowing
it never stops flowing
Do you understand?
it
never
stops

give fate a chance
and love again