The reenactment of something beautiful
Was a preeminent show of life
An oscar worthy performance
On stage, under lights
The roses tend to fall, but lift
The spirit from down below
And a thunderous applause, at length
Can be felt deep inside your soul

They tell me you have ****** eyes
That I should look away
That you’re a victim and a killer too
That I should hope and pray
My instincts are to vacate
To dissipate and flee
Not sure where it all may lead
But I’m curious to see

My fear was evanescent
But it happened all the same
Shouting out my own inadequacies  
Wondering who’s to blame
Instead of being whimsical
While dancing in the rain
If just not to face reality
And return from whence I came
Back to meet my maker
The collector of my soul
I’d leave today if it were up to me
But I have yet to meet my goal
To overcome my obstacles
And forgive my biggest foes
And to strip myself of armor
And be totally exposed

It’s the illusion of protrusion
A not so subtle hint
Something that’s so massive
You barely need to squint
It’s visually appealing
It’s precious, worth a mint
It’s worthy of chasing after
Whether a marathon or sprint
There is no serendipity
There is no second chance
Only becoming a believer
Based off of happenstance

Meet me on the other side of your boundaries
Where vulnerability resists
And the passage to your beating heart
Is proof that one exists
Or meet me in the middle
So that I may soothe your pain
And combat what’s been ailing you
That made you become what you became
The essence of your being
The crystal ball within
The end of the beginning
And the beginning of the end
It at least will serve its purpose
Like when meetings are adjourned
To focus on the soulless
And to all of those concerned

He never felt harassed
By the bonny little lass
Who was distant and detached
Because of her troubled past
He loved her all the same
Smiled at the mention of her name
They had long kisses in the rain
With little chat
He asked her for her hand
Which came highly in demand
But she took off and she ran
And that was that

The crack of the whip
Doesn’t sit well
With whiskers or kittens
Or a cat-o’-nine-tails
Leather and laughter
In a distinct frenzied smell
Wrapped up in ribbons
In a hard candy shell
Was it an omen
Or can’t you tell
If it was more of an archway
Than a gateway to hell