Another secret to keep, another lie that's born. Shh, I can't tell, the dark deed lies in the bleeding words, in the riddles, in the depths of my sick twisted mind. Come and try, you cannot pry it out of my lips; I wont allow it. My peace of mind depends on this one secret, just one dark deed. It repeats its ****** pattern, only this is a puzzle that none can solve, none but me.

What's left for me
I'm not depressed happy or sad
Not upset angry or mad
Emotionless
As calm as the sea after the hurricane  
Only thought after thought in my brain
What are they telling me
My brain doesn't even understand me
And yet it controls me?
What a contradiction
Feeling sorry for me ?
Dont, empathy I dont need
It would be a waste of time I don't have
Just waiting on the next wave this world going to throw at me
Taking it head on
Head strong
I'd sell you some thoughts but I'm selfish
Plus you couldn't handle them
Chances of descripting is slim to none
Thoughts mysterious like rain when its sunny
So you get none
I have nothing else to say  
But what's left for me

I don't want you to see the beauty in me
I want you to see beauty

Cold winter breathes
acid in the rain

Blinded by ashes
it grows harder to
inhale your touch

My bones ache
in the night
as the heat sets
into molten stone

An inner freeze
enters my body
creating a storm
of the ancients
so far away

When all desire at last and all regret
Go hand in hand to death, and all is vain,
What shall assuage the unforgotten pain
And teach the unforgetful to forget?
Shall Peace be still a sunk stream long unmet,—
Or may the soul at once in a green plain
Stoop through the spray of some sweet life-fountain
And cull the dew-drenched flowering amulet?

Ah! when the wan soul in that golden air
Between the scriptured petals softly blown
Peers breathless for the gift of grace unknown,
Ah! let none other written spell soe’er
But only the one Hope’s one name be there,—
Not less nor more, but even that word alone.

I think im nostalgic for life
Through music
And books
Because i havent lived
A day of my life

No one really lives
In this town

And i think im poetic
Because im homeless
But i live in a house
But im not
Im not poetic
Im just a brat