in the morning i put on my war paint,
conceal the blemishes so i won’t be blown away,
bronze and silhouette, so i will ignite like Athena.
the eyes, the eyes, the eyes
are my favorite.
eyeliner to smolder, to create fear, to cause your mouth to overflow.
mascara to pop, to outline, to appear innocent (which we both know i’m
not)
lipstick.
orange, if i’m feeing flirtatious,
pink if i’m feeling like *** packed in a case of cigarettes,
red. red if i’m feeling like dancing against walls that are
graffiti stained.
red if i want to kiss you senseless.
but, darling, do not be confused.
i do not dress for you. you may gape, you may whistle,
but this war paint is for me.
because everyday is a battle, and i must be ready,
with weapons blazing

if i wanted to have a sweet face
i would paint one
on.

but i want a face like a wolf.

so i slant my eyes with coal
and redden my lips
with blood.

I find that all of the people i make friends with
Are off kilter
People that are broken beyond my repair
And yet
I try to put them back together  again

They do say that birds of a feather flock together

Maybe its because The sane people make me feel
Like the odd one out
Or Maybe its because the Crazies
Make me feel sane

But anyways, i can already see what will be the death of me

Entropy isn't quite what it used to be,
Chaos isn't really that new to me,
But how was I supposed to know,
Someone like you could endear me so.
Kinda short but you've those beautiful eyes,
And I'm thinking about you, as this poem implies.
And I don't really know what else to say,
But my dear my heart soars when you're like 'Hey'.