You play my emotions
With nimble fingers,
The hands of an expert,
Unapologetic.
The music of my suffering,
Dazzling.
"Love?" you laugh,
I'm not supposed to.
You're not supposed to,
Use my emptiness,
As part of your show.
But,"It makes a pretty sound,
you know?"
Yes, I do.
You streched a skin,
Across my eyes,
And made a drum.
My hollows ring.
You make them ring.
A lovely sound,
A painful sound,
That's just an echo,
In my empty head.
"Like I care."
You said.
To you, my heart,
Is dead.

The Broken girl,
In her "Madness,"
"Forgot" her dress was sheer.
With her disconnected smile,
And her empty, empty, eyes,
She went out on the town,
To feed upon the gasps,
Of all the passerby.
She's a beauty,
Awesome body.
Angel's face,
Without the light.
Women, men alike.
They look on her and feast.
Until they see her scars,
Almost dangling,
From her thighs.
The slashes and the gashes,
All made from broken glasses,
In the tub of her apartment,
In the wealthy part of town.
The girl, she loves those slashes,
All those ugly gashes.
They are to her like lovers,
That with pain, lessen pain.
The people look away.
They all just close their hearts,
And look no more upon,
The girl of Silent Screams.

If hope is rain,
The land is dry.
If it's bird, it cannot fly.
If it's a heart,
It's shot clean through.
I wish I could live life anew.
Can't see without its light.
Can't breathe with out its breath.
Can you walk with half a spine?
Talk with half a jaw?
Could you ever live in life?
Could you ever die in death?

From lack of feeling, sick.
Quickening,
Sickening,
Death.
My high
won't dry
My tears
they lie
Beneath my lungs
The drugs
They paralyze
They tantalize,
My victims.
"This will be your better love."
I laugh
Bitterness veiled
from sight
My plight...
"Huh? What? Right."
Here's a freebie, just for you.
The cops patrol
Lie low.
I'll see you soon,
******

Crystal cups contain lost calls,
Scores on walls from grisly brawls.
Antique, dusty china dolls.
Cows are mooing as they fall.
Mystic, glittering gypsy *****.
On these floors, her babies crawled.
Ceaseless clamor in the halls.
Oh the stories in these walls!

She's always winning,
Always ahead.
Always the figure,
Draped on your bed.
She is the one,
By hand that you lead,
Into tender passions,
That I look on with dread.
She is the one,
That kisses your lips,
And deep inside,
I'm cut to the quick.
And everytime you look at me,
Your eyes give silent mockery.
And everytime she looks at me,
She laughs and says, "I won."

How long has it been?
Let me count the days...
Have you thought of me since then?
My mind, on you, does stray.
I would like to go,
Back to all the days,
You thought of me as yours.
All those times I do adore!
All those times before,
That stupid, filthy *****.