My eyes are burning and oh so red

I need a hug but got a pinch instead

My senses are growing weak and my hands are shaking

Because everyday my smile is what I'm faking

But when Mr.Dark comes and the daylight is gone

I silently cry till I'm no more

I have the gift of art,but I can't put it to good use.

Creativity blurs my mind but when I touch a piece of paper with a pencil,a pen,a brush it still remains empty.

I'm too scared to even attempt to let the art flow,because I know my paintings,sketches,scribbled messed up drawings would only land me in handcuffs

I am a collection of mistakes.

A catalogue of secrets.

A series of unfortunate events.

i prefer rainfall over
sunshine, and maybe that
explains why i'd choose
you over anyone else.
i always hope that
it's a beautiful day
wherever you are, and
all i ever want to do
is kiss your spine and
never apologize again
but my lips have yet to meet
the skin on your back
and for that
i am sorry.

Some secrets
Ought to be kept alone
Ready to wait
Ready to die
You made me this way

Not once did I flinch
Only did I fear that you

Might try again
Or maybe take things farther. Id
Rather not think about it for
Every time I do, I become                                           *S T R O N G E R

A phrase said so much
It's almost lost its meaning
Started so important
So influential

It has lost its touch
Because it's said too much
Not often thought through
It's now a reflex

Take this seriously
I mean it truly
You are my everything
I Love You

I'm afraid to fall asleep
Because if I sleep
I'll dream
And if I dream
I'll dream only of you
Not of the way
That your smile is beautiful
Or the way that your laughter is contagious
No -
Instead, I'll dream
Corruptions
Tragedies
Fatal accidents
Yes -
The way you'll jump for your escape
By leaping from your chains
Or the way you'll jump for your life
By leaping to your death

Off a heightened building;

Or the way in which
Unknowingly
You'll drag me down along with you

*Because I can't live without you.

If someone offered you a burnt rose you would scrunch your nose up for sure

It would be frail,weak and lack so much allure

It would be black and crumble between your fingers

You would cringe and the hurt would linger

Who wants a burnt rose lost of colour or a pleasurable sight

No one,you give someone that out of sheer spite

So I ask again,who wants a burnt rose that will crumple with the wind?

That the bees stray away from and the birds refuse to sing.

Mother nature forgot that rose as fire consumed it

Everyone forgot as the rose swiftly lit.