My war with the mirror is undeclared
And every spoken word stings red
The glances are whispers unshared
I'm never sure what's in their head

I hate myself for the things I don't say
But I hate myself more for ones I do
My words, my only chance of being heard
Are always betrayed, delayed, pushed away

Smiles and giggles are all that I can provide
I couldn't, for a moment, push them aside
Because I hate myself for the help I need
I loathe every sentence that plants a wrong seed

Every conversation I could take back?
Well I might as well be dead
What good is a life if it cannot be spoken
What good am I if I can’t stop choking

Don’t call me sweet
Don’t you dare call me beautiful
Your words won’t fix this
But mine will.

We are each allotted a certain period to live by an ominous power. Something that grants us each hour.
One that may get stronger with each tick. Or grow weaker with every tock.
Our lives are slipping away every second of every day. And with each new sunset it has been our duty to leave something behind, but what are we to say?
What direction shall we move, what can we possibly prove?
Only time can know and there is only one thing I have to show:
Every minute spent with you, has not been a waste. The moments I am lucky enough to look into your eyes are ones that create ties. These binds are both your legacy and mine as we show the world how love can truly shine.

I was walking down the street,
When something fell at my feet.

A slip of paper
A crumpled thing.

Crinkled and ruffled,
It flew away in the wind.

I’m running out of things to say.

I think this the extent of my rhyming skills.

What if the things we see are only perceivable by us? As if we all have unique spectacles, ones that let us see what we think is normal, but to put them on anothers’ eyes would be to change their entire world, their idea of what things are. Blue is orange, green is black, trees are ugly, distortion is beautiful.
Then what is the truth? What is the tree’s true nature, the honest hue of blue, what does my face look like in reality? Suppose there is no truth. That what we perceive IS reality, in all honest hues, viewed differently in each spectacle of each individual. That it is all in the mind.
If life exists in that way, in the mere space of our minds, the vastly infinite universe that resides in all of us, then my only goal is to share my spectacles.

Love is the worlds worst poison.The sweetest wine with the best kind of drunk. Even when you’re in love, it eats away at you. Slowly, secretly it claws at you from the inside, ripping out every fiber and replacing it with something else. Something unreal, like a drug that runs through your your veins with an amazing high, but as soon as the one you love leaves, so does the fabricated fiber. Then what? What happens after love? You are empty. All those strands that were created with them, the ones that miraculously stitched up every hole in your heart are torn. Plucked viscously from their comfortable state until you're no longer able to smile, or laugh whole heartedly. Every solid foundation that you relied on while  with them, every memory that dried up your doubts are now as sturdy as wet paper and spoiled like cream. You know this is your fate if they leave, you know this the same moment you know you love them. You are nothing without them. So now you cling to your love. And your love clings to you. Destined to drown in a darkness if you let go.

Day and night
Day and night
Today I’ll fight
Never to fright

Love and hate
Love and hate
Don’t trust fate
Or it’ll be too late

Needles and pins
Needles and pins
Forget all my sins
Leave me to rust,
as I’m made of tin