Inside the gothic chamber of my heart
A round shaped table,painted dark,
A chandelier from crystals made.
A mirror seeking my own fate.

Up on a chair,a little child ,
With hair as night and eyes so wild
That a single stare could cut
Through the ration of a thought.

Every day he takes a knife
And he cuts himself alive.
All from scars, his body's made,
Counting them to stay awake.

Stay awake he always thought
If you sleep all fall apart
If you close your eyes to weep
The whole world will die asleep.

One day ,he touched his face
Searching for a tiny place,
Where he could add a scar to count,
But no place, was to be found.

With his vision towards the moon
His counting stopped.He entered soon
The dreaded dream he always found
A thing to fear,the holy ground.

And in his dream he finds his heart,
A round shaped table,painted dark,
A chandelier from crystals made,
A mirror broken by his fate.

If only you knew the damage caused
a few small words said and forgotten
days and hours of painful analysing
awake late at night, cold sweat haze
reliving, re-enacting, in my mind
caught in a time trap, held on repeat
left on my own, locked in this hurt
I hear my voice repeat as I cry
eternally asking the question, why?

Spirit walker what can you tell
standing amidst us silent and still
weaving our souls into a tapestry so rich
each silken thread a story to tell
you catch our tears in your soft white hands
watching us weep in a fervent prayer
so many voices inside your head
screaming out from the bones of the dead
take me with you oh spirit walker
for I am prepared for the journey ahead

The great bird is conceived in a glistening eye
a mythical wonder waiting to be formed
coiled in patience under palest skin
waiting to unfurl its majestic wings
a cold steel blade unlocks its cage
blood must flow to bring it life
its freedom found in fragmented bone
the bars that block its sight are pulled back
hands reach into the great cavern
grasping the wings to set them free
at last in splendour and magnificent awe
the blood eagle is seen to take flight and soar

My face is bland,
quite forgettable actually.
The people I pass on the street don't remember me.
If I stole their purse, or wallet they wouldn't be able to pick me out of a line-up,
But you notice me in a crowd from a mile away.

My voice is disagreeable,
it's quite nasally if I'm honest.
I can't sing and my solo's in the school play were always taken away and given to someone else.
But you let me serenade you
and tell me how soft my voice sounds
as you fall asleep

I am socially inept,
I'm quite awkward really.
I tell puny jokes that are greeted with side long glances and silence
But you always laugh and ask for another.

I'm a bad lover,
I'm quite aloof if the truth be told.
I hold my cards close to my chest and try my best to shut everyone out.
But you look into my eyes and tell me I made it easy for you to fall in love.

To everyone else I am forgettable, and awkward, and aloof.
But to you I am memorable, comfortable, and honest.
I've tried too hard to be something to everyone
when really, all I ever needed to be was everything to someone.

The boy went by Samuel and the girl by Beth
He planned for his future while she awaited her death
Never a likely couple, they put romance to the test
She had cuts on her wrists and a void in her heart
Still, he thought she was gods finest work of art
There were years of love, of picnics and fun
Never would you guess their romance would be done
But he thought he could fix her, rid her of her vice
When he couldn't, he felt his love couldn't suffice
Beth's cuts were deep and Sam's patience, thin,
One more slice and his temper would give in,
She tried to stop but still resisted the change,
She found his love exceedingly strange
It couldn't be taken, and alas she cut
He began stammering in rage, screaming, "WHAT"
He ran to the shed, knowing what he'd find there
And hoisted the axe, high into the air
Sam ran her down and looked her in the eye
And brought the axe down, screaming,
"If you want to die, die"