Has it all been a lie? The whole thing just a big charade of struggle against lack of common interest? Could one even consider the possibility of opposites attract for them? This happens all the time. You think you know, but really it's everything you think it's not. What do you do when everything you thought was right, is actually wrong? What do you do when you believe in something so strongly, so strongly that you don't even need to ask about it, and it turns out was corrupted and untrue? What does that mean for promises like "As long as we both shall live" if half the marriages end in divorce anyways?*


There is no point.

The memory is vague
"Don't look back"
someone said
Didn't dare look back

Frozen
         she was fine..
Shocked
        nothing happened..
Scared
         No, no, no...

Pulled into emptiness
I stared ahead
Seeing nothing
Hearing nothing
Thinking... nothing

There were words that were said
There was more than one..
One that shattered
Through the shield,
One word:
Dead...

My voice takes me home
The rest is a blur,
In the empty dome
Nothing occurs

Gone is my protector
in the dark midnights..
Gone is my warmth
in the cold winter nights..
Gone is my flower
she, I could not compare..
Gone is my friend
With her long white hair..

You are a repeat roller coaster.
On speed.
In a storm;
A hurricane, to be exact.

You are exactly what I want
And what I detest.

You twist and turn me,
Leaving snakebite scars around my heart

You disguise my devil decisions
And the halo you wear, so lovely,
Does it justify?

Shrugging your words
You left, racing away on your bike
While your curfew chased you down the road

Gone in the blink of an
Eye,
And often I wonder
Why?

Semi-tragic chords
Mixed with your words
Build harsh, dissonant sounds…
Words that often assured me
In times of doubt and misfortune,
Such that plagues me now,
Muddling my words…

No entiendo
Your intentions
No entiendo

The pain of the unshed tears well up in my brain
and im just starting to think i'm insane

Press the depressed upon my sighs
and sooth me with your smouldering eyes.
We are not here for purpose left unfed...
The purpose feeds upon the coming dead!
And oft we think our holy thoughts,
The pain of sin, our breath is caught!

They think we think they know us,
Assumptions press and depress
I protest: This is not what it is,
This is what it seems to be!
To be is not what it seems, but what is real...
Dry your eyes on the street of fantasy.