His heart is heavy,
His mind,clouded,
By fate's decree,
and unfortunate reality,
hundreds of shadows surrounds,
yet his soul feel so alone,
for the hearts that had cared are in the ground,
and the souls that had felt are now gone,
they no longer play a part in his song,
their bodies abode 'neath the stones,
the stones of his morning mourns.

On the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge,
playing Gloomy Sunday on a moody Monday,
No longer wish to feel alone,
Just wanted to feel at home,
Death saw how he was scared,
but Death still waited,
For Death knew,
He was much scared of being alone,
He realised that time won't mend,
He knew he was no longer strong,
So the last melody is played,
And he let himself fall,
7 feet deep yet he's no longer scared,
For he and his heart has ended it all.

The moment we met you were infatuated. You were delusional with affection. The way I learned how to conjure words from the inner pits of lust and fondness created the illusion of something far more complex than love. The epitome of regret.

Your intellect was mesmerizing, which, I will admit kept me intrigued. How delicate your words were when the air left your lungs and your soul flooded the meaning before it captivated my attention.

With much repent I must admit that I loved you. The instant I became speechless it was not a romantic gesture. My lack of words mimicked the end of my adventure. I feared the demise. My apologies for not being the compassion that you were seeking for. You asked me why I could not love you. It was not that I couldn’t. There were simply no words that I have learned that could remotely express the endearment that my heart held for you.

The moment we met you were infatuated. You were delusional with affection. The way I learned how to conjure words from the inner pits of lust and fondness created the illusion of something far more complex than love. The epitome of regret.

Just admit it. I am only temporary.

When my friends think about drinking they see parties, and wild nights, and crazy hangovers

And when I tell them I never plan on letting a sip of alcohol touch my lips, they're scandalized

Because they don't understand

How could they ever?

When I think of drinking, I think of my mom passed out underneath our Christmas tree

Or my dad swerving down side streets with the smell of whiskey wafting off of him like smoke from a campfire

I see my childhood that came crashing down in front of my eyes

I see something that they will never understand

Eyes transfixed, care to take a second look
Lies spill like oil out of the picture book
See the ever present glazed look in her gaze
The levels of misery just might amaze

The smile superglued onto a falling face
This plastered image in a foreign place
A trick of light, my love, and that is it
Photographed half-truths, often edited

Bind them together, for a story we must fabricate
Smash the window to see the masterpiece we make
Distort and contort a slump into paradise
Hear the people wish for a second they had your life

Look back on smiles and then upside down
See the dull eyes behind the makeup of the clown
The lights are on, my dear, paint on a pretty face
So we can reminisce fondly of the happy fakes