It lowers slowly making you bend it never stops the strongest falter eventually the weak just bow faster there is no reprieve no loophole to abuse a timeless process some call life.
Every one has desires Every one has needs Most needs are the same Desires though Now theirs the thing Strange and unorthodox In your eyes Is so pedestrian To another Can we say To each their own When some truly care I suppose some aren't important The majority of course Are really the ones Power in numbers hmm No no they have their ways But the opinion that matters most Is the one with the most silver tongue.
Winter is on the horizon Soon you'll worry About being frozen The day's are growing dark The jackets are coming out A good time for cocoa Snow peoples and frost bite Best of all the bugs And the bears will be By and large asleep.
What good are doors on the floor just invite yourself in I can't stop you I'm asleep everyone sleeps thats no weakness still unsafe close my eyes never again I can try.
It's not ******* In case you were wondering No this is love familial or otherwise That is just too much They care They care a lot And there is no where to run too little love and affection Can make people crazy But this kind will Make you wish For a place to hide.
And that And that Ooh and definitely that Alas I cannot I curse you God All these shiny baubles Catch my eye I go in for one And leave with six It is just so wrong.
Chess terribly complicated when you attempt to take it seriously but forget the rules and just toss the pawns to the horses then you'll have fun or at least be done with it quickly.
The innocence of youth which isn't always kept in the hands of the young it can be held in aged hands though everyone wonders how it can be perhaps sought after in the belief that ignorance is bliss.
you know where I currently reside it's the same place as always I never move my perch is safe so my abode need never move you may be like the wind always on the move just for movements sake but I am stone as eternal as anything can be.
Well I have an idea I don't like it I don't want it But I have it I have a few actually They **** to What are you going to do Nothing much probably I don't claim the sight But I expect regret.
The worst lies are the ones we believe even though we know there false the lies we want to be true the lies we need to be true the ones that when uncovered leave the world just a little bit darker.
The river Full of fizz The carbonated River flows Down to the land Of sweets and Rotted teeth Maybe water Would be wiser Unless you fear fluoride Then maybe *****.
weary is accurate reading sad stories can be such a drain the news more dead people justice still only a dream foreign affairs ****** and tense same old same old should probably stick to fiction.
They just appear these creatures I have no say I can't avoid them They could a least ask but no so I wander and bam they appear they swarm it's freaky at least to me dam creatures
You're like a kraken And I'm the ship You seek me out You wrap me up Then I find myself shattered The debris that was me Just floating in the sea This is why I prefer dry land.
A vault full of history with haphazard security they lose stuff and let things get switched out for fakes If this weren't a metaphor i'd suggest replacing them with a kid with a stick
It was disturbing the world is big the sky looks infinite the roads are full the cars are to this isn't all this is barely any I need to hurry home and lock the door behind me.
when does hope die right before you do is probably the best case some live long lives with their hope dead A sad bunch resigned to the shadows they know the future it isn't good.
my bad I meant no offense it really ***** when you say the wrong thing or make the wrong move with no real ill intent but still cause offense all you can do is give your apologies.
An unearthly wail Echoes across the town It comes from a metal monster Always spinning in its Predetermined track While small fleshy things Climb all about it And other angsty fleshy things Draw all manner of things On it The poor accursed monster If you got loose Many would suffer.
So well made Tailored clothes Perfect hair It's all most real But it isn't is it No pain No panic No pleasure No blood No bile Just well shaped plastic And a chiseled smile.
I'd be That Gray cloud That hangs over Your head Obscuring the sun And raining on your parade Nothing personal It's just The weather pattern That I am.
You raised the dead Though not very well The thing you resurrected May breathe may even walk But that special something Just isn't there anymore I suppose it's stuck In the grave.