i hate you
and i'll be okay
because any kind of closure
is better than this
I don't need your arms to hold me,
your blank stares to reel me in.
You can keep your twisted maze of lies,
the end where I begin.
I must forge my chosen path,
it only leads one way.
And shall I cross you wandering,
I'll lead you far away.
You have no place inside my home,
you must go find your own.
I'll show you to my soul's front door,
and reclaim my proper throne.
Late night soul dredging.
I tried to bury the hurt
deep, deep inside.
But it returns to haunt me,
because I buried it alive.
the world is shattering,
with a raven hovering.
the wild creation with big strong wings,
coming closure, spreading darkness, hiding everything.
visibility has gone even with dilated pupil.
humans trying to remember ethics and scruples.
this will end soon, we chanting every prayer,
the old and infant both survive and again we get fresh air.
Honestly, I'm feeling a little blue
At least I know my feelings were true.
But you sat there and made me choose between my morals and you.
And in the end you came out victorious,
while i'm the one feeling *******.
And though it's what I wanted from the beginning,
the saddest part is
I learned the real you ...
Still I’ve hit the ceiling
But the fan hasn’t cut me
There is no point in running
When you only feel exposed
Still I’m in the sunlight
So how the hell can I hide?
I can feel the end coming
We are closer to being closed
This would make a great chorus/hook. I know it doesn’t translate without the melody. Morbid first two lines, huh?
I didn't think it could happen.
When I could take a breath without it hurting.
When I could have a genuine smile.
When I could feel happy again.
When looking back at the past me, I would be able to turn back around and look at the future.
A future that I no longer feel anxious about.
But one that I can embrace with both arms.
Ready to see where it will take me.
It has been too long.
i used to be eighteen with blue hair
exuding the pure waters of my heart
to the tangled tips of my salt ridden curls
by nineteen the colors of my waves were stolen by darkness
oil spilling out
to leave a story told in the blackest parts of my eyes
but like oceans before me
the murkiness faded
and sunlight began to graze my waters
but my heart never flowed quite as strong
and the colors no longer touched my curls