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Melody Dec 2011
Have the flower in your hand,

Cupped in rainbow rain drops.

See the electric wires blaze at the joined up parts,

Cupped in rainbow rain drops.

Feel the river's setiment move up stream,

Cupped in rainbow rain drops.

You cry and speak this rainy dew,

But does it mean anything of sentiment value to you?



You had the flower in your hand,

Cupped in rainbow rain drops.

You saw the electric wires blaze at the joined up parts,

Cupped in rainbow rain drops.

You felt the river's setiment move up stream,

Cupped in rainbow rain drops.

But do they mean anything of sentiment value to you?



I saw you have,had,feel,felt,see,and saw these special things,

But you never showed any attention to them.

Maybe you just sit and hide your thoughts from me,

Maybe you just can't notice these tiny details that happen every minute of everyday of every year.

Maybe you haven't discovered these miniature rainbow rain drops,

That you're covered in from head to toe, yet.

But you are cupped in rainbow rain drops.
Melody Dec 2011
You've lost it,

The complete mentality you once had is now gone.

You're calm and collectiveness was severed when she said those hateful words,

But honey,

Don't forget,

I love you too,

I mean it,

I'm not scared,

I'm just scarred,

But I'm here.




Honey,

I'm here,

Never forget.
I don't really know why I wrote this.But I know this is what other people say when something bad happens to you, "I'm here" If I could even say those words to the ones I love,I would. But it's impossible, because saying those words when I can't help, hurts both myself and them. I won't say these words unless I HAVE to.
Melody Dec 2011
Where you are and when you're there,

Is never for me to know,

It's all up to you,

To scream and shout and now your lungs are numb.

Constant ringing and stinging in my fingers,

Keeping me awake with steady pain.

But when my left arm starts to ache I know what's going on,

And when you're not there to help me suffer,

I cry your name and breath.

I close my eyes and now I'm prepared for hell.



Where you are and when you're there,

Is never for me to know,

It's all up to you now.

But when I have this heart attack,

Just remember,

I'm ready for where the pain you caused has put me.
Melody Dec 2011
I've learned to settle down,

I've learned to pin pain like a gown,

And when you've tackled the line,

I'm in the end of time,

Because you sit there on the chair,

While I spend my life climbing up endless stairs.


When you turn back around,

I'm laying on the ground,

I look like I'm dead,

When I really just need a bed.

I kick and punch like a little tyke,

And that's when you press dislike.
Melody Dec 2011
No matter how much you paint the world,
Or use crayolas or Rose Art to color the world,
The world will be an open canvas.

The world will be colorless even after it's completely colored.
Want to know why?
Because the foot prints we leave behind us stain the earth to color black.

This
World
Is...




*Colorless
Just an idea that popped it's way into my head, and so I colored this canvas.
Melody Dec 2011
The words ..They call me out.

I'm wondering and pondering what I should pencil down,

because everything is calling me out.

The words the word speaks,

the words the human speaks,

the words everything speaks.

If I could write them out without a single flaw in the pencil or ink I'd be angry and never happy.

Because anything that's perfect in imperfect.

Any person that claims to be sane is insane,

Because there is nothing but any kind of insanity.

If you claim you're insane...

Well, then I cannot judge,

Because I am not myself.


But the words they call...

And they say...

Write me out...


Write me out

before I slowly wither away.

Or shudder away petal by petal like tears on small las's face in the rain


Write me out

before I run out of tears to cry.


That is what the words call out,

And they scream so loudly in any place that I am at.


The words ...

They call...

They scream...

They yearn to be written....

They cry..

And they tell me....

To..

Write them out.
Wrote before I went to bed...I'm moderately happy with it.
Melody Oct 2011
I sit and I scribble,

With black ink pens,

Black ink pens and scribbles,

I scribble and I ribble my single given life away.

And when I shower,

I wash the ink off my hands,

and clean the deepest paper cuts down to the ends.

It stings and it rings,

But so do my pulsing fingers

And beating heart.


She sits at a desk

with black ink pens and scribbles.

Black ink pens and scribbles.

She scribbles and ribbles her single given life away.

And when she showers,

She washes the ink off her hands,

And cleans the deepest paper cuts down to the ends.

She stings and she rings,

But so do my pulsing fingers


And beating heart.


I sit and I scribble,

With black ink pens,

Black ink pens and scribbles,

I scribble and I ribble my single given life away.

And when I shower,

I was the ink off my hands,

And clean the deepest paper cuts down to the ends.

It stings and it rings,

But so do my pulsing fingers

And beating heart.


I die with this pen in my hand,

And my book of scribbles below my head.

She dies with her pen in her hand,

And her book of scribbles below her head.


I die with this pen in my hand,

And my book of scribbles below my head.
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