It's funny how I've always written about hardships and love,
yet only one really fit me like a glove,

Both always take more from me than I take and always end up with hurt,
yet I always throw myself into both like a spurt,

I don't know what wicked god always seem to bless and ****,
perhaps it's my destiny just to go out in a bam,

For once control over my destiny I want to assert,
my trigger finger is always alert,

​I have this watch that every hour produces a beep,
making me count every hour I'm losing sleep,

Because no matter how hard no rest i can reap,
not knowing how you are or hearing from you make my skin creep,

No matter what because you've manage to every pore seep,
utterly from under me my very being you sweep,

And I know my words by now seem very cheap,
but they along my being are yours to keep.

Like a gentle and beautiful rose sprung out of the soil

pure and innocent like the first snow nothing it can spoil

but yet jagged and thorned defensively, a true nature's toil


Spreading up towards the sky for the feeble sunlight

closing up every night when the cold comes oh so tight

but seems so untouched and pure like without plight


Love is like a rose having it's thorns but yet it's temptation

many fall fools to the beautiful and pure creation

but few are willing to withstand when it brings damnation


Love isn't just beautiful pedals or ever so green thorns

false love you fall a fool for and can't handle to grab the horns

true love is when you with pride wear that crown of thorns


True love is when you're not afraid of petty thorns, you grab them and hold on until you bleed out and prove that you are worth feeling love.

My life and soul has always been like an overcrowded subway station,

everyone rushing to run away from being struck by my own damnation,


their faces getting blurred, I can’t recognize anyone anymore,

only thing I see clearly is my life from my hands pour,


But who am I to judge? I would do the same if I were them,

perhaps that is where my problems really stem,


I see my issues and my faults, my every wrong step,

but I do nothing but blame it on that I haven’t slept,


those who stay I push away, sooner or later,

so for my own lonely abyss I am the sole creator,

Like morning dew set like a duvet over the frail grass

mist laying thick but yet frail and thin like glass


stars still glooming on Gaea's black arch far above

pines resting deep until dawn calm thereof


the silence only broken by a mourning dove

not breaking, being of the serenity one of


only at times as these I can feel at bay

my own doubts can not even make me sway


for once I feel whole...