You used to ask me
why I wore shades indoors,
and I never told you
I wouldn't, I couldn't.

But now that you've left,
I suppose I can say;
I wouldn't, I couldn't
let anyone see the truth
in the mirth of my eyes;
The sorrow they held
so desperately;
The tears and cries,
the skeletons and lies;
I couldn't let them see
what hurt me.

When I have been struck by an arrow of silver, I lay, awaiting death.

"Mother will cry!"

May she grieve quickly.

"Father will cry!"

May he mourn peacefully.

"Brother will cry!"

May he live happily.

"Your lover will cry!"

May he become free.

I don't want to be the one to say it,
but I can't help but be angry;
I am to do what I am expected to do,
and yet
everyone else's errands are so minimal.
I can't help but be disappointed;
when you don't think of how
you not doing something
could be consequential for me.
I can't help but be frustrated;
that you keep saying you will make a change
but another day goes by,
and you still haven't done anything.

Stay calm,
close your eyes,
relax.

You needn't worry of what is to come,
do not fret.

You need only breathe slowly,
smell the sandalwood,
and enjoy the moment.

Roll the dice,
see how many times
you'll be hurt.

She sits upon the roots
of the wise oak tree.

"Tell me, what must I do?" she asks hopefully.

"I cannot answer your query, for I do not know what you should do,
but I know someone who could help you." the oak responds.

"Well, who?"

"The Universe."

Let oxygen flow,
in and out,
as you release tension,
hatred,
discomfort,
and replace it all
with love.

I'd rather die by the hands of an assassin
using a rusty arrow or a dull blade
than allow you
to take my maidenhood.

Rules are only made to be broken
if they are set upon you
by a hypocrite.

Every move you make is erratic,
I keep guessing what you might do next,
but you keep circling my head
like a halo of such tedious decisions.
You entertain a quiet, somber demeanor
and remain smugly volatile.
You are capricious.

I'll paint a picture
with you, right here,
by my side.

Evoke the reflection, see only candor, you seldom cry- have you no shame?
I cannot console you as you engage in this feud- the mirth of your eyes clouded with smoke, can you see? But of course not!
You move, languid, with the wine in your skull- where is your chariot, maiden? Where is your shame?
Have you none? But of course not!
You shan't walk free, for you have succumbed so easily- and with what risk? Was it worth it? But of course not!
Gold embroidered in the finest silk caresses your *****, a veil hides your tears- but alas, your soul is raw and ragged- why has thee left it loft in the sea?
The vernal land smells of petrichor- the stream runs eager! Where have you gone, what have you done? Have you run, one of seven brides to be wed? Have you no shame? But of course not!
Shall we await your return? But of course not!

I seldom swear
on anybody's name,
but never in vain,
as I cry to know,
for somebody's sake,
where are you?

Merely time,
five times that dawn will show itself
before the eve of battle,
and we will succeed
in the completion of God's will.

Paint on your canvas,
use my skin
and decorate it with charcoal
and pastels.

Make me beautiful.

white hot flames
lick my skin;
brimstone, hot like molten metal,
caresses my feet,
burns my heel;
i will walk,
I won't stop,
not until i arrive
in hell.

Compared
to my Fall from Heaven,
well,
that hurt far less
than falling in love
with you.

Your laughter scares me
because I worry
that I will never here that chorus
again.

when I die,
tie me to the stake
like the witch I am.
surround me with copper wire
and light me on fire
as you gaze upon the emerald flames
and my soul crosses the threshold.

I threw a little wish in the well,
you ask and ask but I'll never tell,
so you dove in and I watched as you fell
your loss, I bid you farewell.

The crow stood tall
on the brick wall,
it watched me cry
it watched me fall.
All the corpses,
all the pain,
I'd never see life,
never again.

The rippling whispers,
as the water flows downstream
jumping across stones.
The sound of the river,
it told me to swim.
It hypnotized me into
numb bliss.

If you remove a silver sterling blade
from a sheath of thick leather,
you either make an oath
or make a killing.

do you ever
just wanna say
"**** it"?
yeah, me too,
but we can't.
we gotta keep going,
and i'll be your shoulder to cry on.

I tend not to compare
my expectations to reality
because I would see the same thing
each and every time.

Your lies are thick
like molasses, you know,
like honey or syrup.
Sweet,
too sweet to be real.
And yet,
you let them fall out of your mouth
like a running faucet,
it's so easy for you
to lie.

One plays the acoustic
with the potential of a genius,
writing lyrics
as thoughtful as himself,
but he is blind
to his magnificence.

i use chalk
on a blackboard
to bring my imagination
to life.

Sure it does,
isn't that what a bill is made of?

I'm a tad too late
for one thing,
and time goes by fast
when you're older,
wiser,
and while I don't have much time,
I'm not too late
for the other.

Were we ever free,
with the boats carrying us unwillingly
over the sea?

Were we ever free,
whips splintering our backs,
slashed like cutting boards?

Were we ever free,
working until our knees gave out
for the fear of being punished by aristocracy?

Were we ever free,
knowing or not that we'd lose our children
to the hands of greedy men?

Were we ever free,
crying our eyes out, holding the hand of a corpse
asking it to speak?

Were we ever free,
will we ever be?

Once it has lived
a fulfilling life,
the spider plant let's it's children
hang elegant from her arms.
They don't let go,
never,
until someone takes her children
from her.

I'd rather be run through
by the bayonet of a musket,
my body buried in an unmarked grave
and my death holding no meaning,
than stand by your side
only to turn back.

The harsh bite of the Nordic winds,
how it harmonizes with the moon
to push white waves across the ocean,
it's a true wonder
how the wooden ships drift so raggedly
on sapphire waters.

I do not condone
your pitiful suggestions
for potential partners
that are so dull,
mundane.

I will reincarnate
without dying,
I will cleanse my blood
of your poison,
I will birth
a clean,
wise soul
to replace the one
you tainted.

In all the debris,
the black and white of the world,
I swear I'll do better,
I swear I'll sport colour.

We were all children,
after all,
we were so pure,
so very small,
we would walk
and we would crawl,
but now we're older,
so very tall.

When we were younger,
we'd always fear
feeling pain,
to feel a tear,
but nowadays
they're always here,
there is no melody
in the sobs we hear.

The chagrin overrides
my attempt to no longer hurt;
the burning sensation in my chest
soars through my body
and has salty, burning tears
stream down my face
like waterfalls.

the wind blows grains of sand
hopping from the shore
before the waves swallow them whole
and the sea steals their souls.

When I met you,
you had plunged your velvet fist
deep enough to reach my heart
that was frozen over, ever so cold.
You squeezed it tight and the sensation
oh you ripping it out
was painful at first,
but you proved to be
the one who could thaw my freezing heart
and bring me joy once again.