Raw and uncut, to the bearest of bones.
I am an open novel and full of old woes.
I crack under pressure and wear my heart on my sleeve, I cringe with every soul that I too must grieve.
I am the clouds in the sky that always bring shade
And I try to soften the touch of a blade.
I want to be everything anyone has ever wanted
But I fear instead, my heart may be haunted.
The world tastes of sweet strawberries picked from the yard, yet I know I am too shy to pluck the right card.
I weep for the sorry and smile for the brave,
But I fear one day that I might misbehave.
Please forgive me for the changing of this tune,
You see I only hoped it wasn't too soon.
I ripped out the pages from my own written works, in hopes that I too could change my old quirks.
I pleasure the living and bury the dead, and I feel I might soon just lose my poor head.