I speak inside my brain
and then my heart replies.
I've lived my life as the rain
falling down from the vacant skies.
I told you that I loved you
and truer words were never spoken,
but how much can one person do,
when paradise is broken?

I turn my back on memories
but they still slap me in the face,
the emotions get the best of me
when I'm standing in the wrong place.
I told you that I'd keep you dry
even though I myself was soakin'
but how hard can one person try
when paradise is broken?

The pastel colours were fake,
except the black and white,
I shaded it all for the sake
it was not pleasing to my sight.
In every single dream I drown,
I always give up on that fight,
until I'm buried in the ground
I'll dream that struggle every night.

Heaven is over occupied
they stopped letting just any folk in,
and purgatory is mystified
'cause paradise is broken.

I long for the free birds
with their hazardous flapping wing
and the way they spin their words
into gentle songs we sing.
I told you I was missing my mind
I just could never rope it in,
how much can one person find
when paradise is broken.

The pastel colours were fake,
except for the black and white,
I needed the blue for a lake,
and the red for the ****** fight.
In every dream I'm alone,
I try to change that with all my might,
you spoke aloud in a wrong tone
but atleast the words were right.

Heaven is over occupied
I wish I never had woken,
and Hell is now justified
cause paradise is broken.

You own; each beat from my chest, both lungs and every breath,
what I have and all the rest,
my life until my death.

Why
Do I always mess things up?
Turning
Friendship into crush into lack of said friendship.
I
Do not intentionally like those who seem to get me best,
But I,
Do not know how to not mess this up.
I
do not know how to not like her.
See I,
I have a girl crush.
The first since I was 15
So please
Don't take this, or my feelings too lightly;
And,
Because I'm not in a rush to
Tell her how I feel
I
Manage to be complacent with her friendship,
And her company.
See she
Could either become my best friend,
Or my nothing.
Because girl crushes,
For me,
Have always been nothing but unrealistic
Feelings unrequited,
Unreturned,
Unsatisfied;
So I
Shovel them into the mass grave of
Thoughts
And emotions
In hope that,
One day,
She'll dig them up like buried treasure
And treasure them
As if they were her own.
But how
Will she ever find their tombstone
If she doesn't even know what she's looking for?
Lost,
I ask for Her advice.
She
Always seems to have the best advice:
"follow your heart." she offers to me,
But,
Little does she know that means I would have to follow her all day and
I
Don't care much for being a shadow.
I
Ask her how to tell someone the truth about my emotions and she answers:
"With honesty"
And honesty
May always be the best policy for her,
But for me,
Only lies are worth living while I
Lay with someone else,
And the lies I tell myself.
So she
Stays in the dark of my feelings
And the real questions I want to ask
Like
"Should I let us remain friends? Or should I try to make us more?"
Make me
Into
Her companion
A
Two girl coven
With no room
For anything other than magic
And unmade memories
An
Empty grimoire
Filled with
Blank Polaroids,
Uncast spells,
And unspoken words
Of feelings unshared.
I
Don't mind the idea of a relationship unhad
But my brain
flickers like a broken street light
In warning that my feelings towards others are only fake
Refusing to let me ignore that he
Is nowhere close to she,
And that she
Will never truly care for me.
Not so long as she is oblivious,
And I am dishonest.

the realization of numbers
descending
away
hasn't dawned in her  
mind's matter of
gray

if she doesn't wake up
from complacency's
story
there will be nowt left
on the listing's
inventory

it'll be too late when we're
all looking for a
job
due to us not having
goodly figures in the
mob

surely she can sense  
our positions are at
stake
as the total amount has
become an
earthquake

under previous heads
we've not felt
insecure
but with her holding
the reins we're in
manure

for over seven months
she's buried her
head
like the ostrich who can't
see impending
dread

it is perfectly plain
to everyone else
around
that the units have
slipped onto the
ground

she'll open the file
which will say all
absent
the last manager was
a little too
complacent

Drifting away.
No place here to say,
That I do want to stay.

I'd rather lay
In my last day,
Than continue to play
In this way

Namaste

pour me into a glass;
tall, still, and skinny;
i'll hold my breath to stay narrow;
and i'll keep quiet;
no rippling of the tide;
no flow of the river inside of my chest;
i serve as the perfect mirror;
put me in front of whoever you want me to be

i take shape of any container you put me in, baby;
pour me from one bowl to another;
ladle me into the grave you dug for me;
bottle me up and keep me in the cellar;
anything you want, i am glad to be;
i'll distort myself to be what you need

I should be working right now but I'm not,
a pupil beaming on the inside from her rebellion
all in the name of poetry.
Quite sad really...

But I like writing poetry regardless to work,
it's one thing that I can admit comes naturally.
Well I can admit it to myself but to others no way,
I'd like to seem complacent not arrogant.

So mid my rebellion I'll write with a smile,
not because I'm always happy,
I'll smile because today I'm content.