Your yelling makes my heart hurt. How dare you use that L word.
I know what it really looks like, what it really feels like.
You don't have it. You don't understand it.
Yet you dare to use that word. You dare to call it real.
The real thing isn't selfish.The real thing doesn't lie.
It doesn't yell in the middle of the night, it doesn't point fingers.
It doesn't treat people the way you treat each other.
Sure, it's not perfect. It hurts, and it destroys.
But it's real. How dare you call it real.
You, who lie and cheat and steal.
HOW DARE YOU USE THAT WORD.
You give it a bad name.
You're the reason people are afraid of it.
You should be ashamed.
It should be a crime for people like you to use that word.
Your lying makes my head hurt.
You speak of it like it's an agreement. Some sick selfish
contract with clauses and guidelines.
People like you try to destroy the meaning of the word.
You have no right to even whisper it.
You'll never understand it. Good, you don't deserve to.
It's not meant for people like you.
You're too selfish. You're too sick.
You're selfishness makes my stomach churn.
You don't even know the language. It's not meant for you.
I know it's not perfect. I know it's painful.
I've tasted it, and I've burnt my tongue.
But I don't speak ill of it.
I know it's better to have never had it.
I know how much it hurts.
But at least I've been there. How dare you say it out loud.
You never had it, you never will. It's not meant for you.
Your "Love" makes me sick.

She was a heroine heroine.
Smoking words and drinking verse with her
was a toxic antidote for love.
Love was her favorite ***** word.
She puked it out every night
because she knew I'd clean it up in front of all of them.

I peeled off the warning labels,
I laughed at the specialists.
I ignored the side effects.
I silenced the naysayers.
I wanted a dose, I needed it.

She loved the lightning but hated the rain.
I wanted someone to hold hands with.
She loved the fire but hated the ashes.
I wanted a "baby, it's our song" kind of girl.
She wanted the blast without the fallout.
I wanted the flame without the burn.
She was a firecracker dipped in gasoline.
I was a fairy tale without the hero.
She never learned.
I never learned.

You hold her, but only for a moment.
You're not bold enough to stomach her venom.
You light two, give one to her,
and she blows smoke in your eyes.
But it's never her fault,
they made her this way, she says.

She likes to be neck deep in the drama,
her scabs and scars are a life's work of trophies.

Even if I could turn back time? It wouldn't matter
We both knew from the get go which one of us would let go.
You broke at the slightest sign of me.
I was too human for you.
I was too real for you.

All I wanted to see was her, all I wanted to drink was her.
Smother me in poison if you must.
I'll take the burn, the hurt, the pain,
I took it all for you.
I fell for you, and they laughed at both of us,
but louder at me.

She breathed fire from too many liars' kisses.
Inhaled my soul as I choked on your "love"
I begged you for seconds as you "loved" someone else.

Still don't know if I'm running to or running from.
I hitched a plane West, for a dream I fear is already dead.
For what I thought I saw is already gone.
Thought I saw tomorrow, but it was a lie.
Thought I saw a better future, but I was blind.
Painting dreams on the insides of my eyelids.
I had years to plan, but instead I landed like a refugee,
with lint in my pockets and tears in my eyes.
Running from phantoms, the very phantoms,
I need to survive.
Wishing for the very things that will be the very death of me.
So many dreams across my eyelids, I painted them shut.
I dreamt myself blind.
Bankrupted my future with delusions of grandeur.
Threw away my present, because I thought the present didn't matter.
"The future will set me free", I boasted.
But what happens when you outrun tomorrow?
And the money's gone, and everyone else has moved on?
Everyone except you, of course.
You pushed your friends away,
ignored your family's pleas,
I thought, "The future will solve my problems."
Why did I throw all my friends away,
knowing how hard it is for me to make friends?
Because I believed too much in Tomorrow.
I believed, but I didn't prepare.
I rolled the dice, but forgot to bet.
I built the house, but never laid the concrete.
And now Today is Tomorrow, and Tomorrow is Today.
And now I'm all alone, trapped on another planet, so far from home.
I'm at a Crossroads, and there is no safe route.
There is no less traveled, there is no less wild.
I am what I always wanted to be.
Alone.

I am emotional, but I am fearless
I am stronger among the pack,
yet I prefer to be on my own path
Sometimes I am the swift hunter,
sometimes I am the cowardly scavenger
I can be loud and ferocious,
I can be quiet and submissive
If I wish, I can make my presence known in an instant,
or I may stay invisible.
I avoid conflict when I can, yet I am fiercely territorial
By day I am the lazy dog,
at night I am the vicious predator
I am your best friend, I am your worst nightmare
I'm not always a monster, but I will **** for what I love
It is possible to discipline me, but its no easy task
And you'll never take the wild out of me
My soft fur hides my fangs
I am the Wolf

I'd like to believe they're up there watching me,
But then I'd have to believe in something I don't.
In fact, so would they, which I **** well know they didn't.
So if it is real,
Would I even wanna go?
Is your paradise mine?
Nope.
And why should I fear your apocalypse?
I don't believe in it.
Therefore I should not be judged for it.
And if your God made me? In his image?
Then I'd imagine he'd agree with me.

She was a flower in a field of glass,
but her thorns were sharper still.
If you held her for too long you started to bleed.
Yet I couldn't let her go.
The pain was too sweet.
She had emeralds for eyes.
The curves of her stem were perfect.
But her roots were too deep in the glass.
Her pedals were sweet smelling,
but her leaves were razor sharp.
Her scent was a beautiful poison,
her colors were bright and exotic.
She was dangerous, and I loved it.
Beneath the glass was concrete.
The city was her home.
She bloomed beneath the bright lights.
She yearned to grow wild and free,
she wanted to sprout among the other flowers,
but she poisoned them all,
and her roots could not escape the pain.
In the glass were mounds of bones,
of those who held her too long.
Their blood helped her grow,
but also made her poisonous.
I long to taste her again,
yet I know she'll never taste the same.
The scars on my hand will never heal.
And I don't want them to.