Something in my brain is not the same
Something in my brain lost it's way.
I'm not sure what it was
I'm not sure what to say,
didnt realize I lost it until it was too late but
Something in my brain walked away.
Where did it go
Where did it stay
What did it leave
What it take?
Does it matter?
Does it mind?
Im not sure
Can't decide.

My love! How sweet, how prosperous!
        He lives within my heart~!
Nurtures, Oh, He cherishes –
        Oh, never shall we part!

Though I may beauty and elegance lack,
        My heart strung with sorrow’s strings,
My love, His soul does sing for me –
        In perfect melody~!

And I do love, with all my heart,
        With fiber, mind, and soul,
My perfect man, Oh, man of dreams –
        My sweetest dreams unfold.

His flaws are seamless, seams are flawless –
        Imperfections perfect –
My darkness His light, His bright my sun –
        My blight, His love confesses none –

All this, except for only one.
        A single state which rattles my commitment,
A flaw which overlooking may not come.
        Bastardly, it prevents my love’s fulfilment.

Though He should love me in all my ignorance –
        My shame, and clumsy arrogance –
That I should question Him is deplorable –
        Yet, Oh, this flaw, it’s un-ignorable!

For He is a dream, Oh, not to be!
        In my mind it’s Him I see, but –
Among the living, out in the world,
        He does not exist but in my words.

What sorrow indeed, sweet imaginings bring!
        His rose-petal scent – His eyes blue and green –
His mystical magical magnificence –
        A figment of my imagination.

In what cruel world do I live where no one accepts?
        His love so extensive, mine potent, and yet –
Because He is fake, in only my mind,
        My love is doomed, empty, lonely, and blind?
My love feels so real; I weep and I laugh,
        My emotions run rampant for Him, and still yet –
Is it not real? Only a lie?
        A lie which is felt – but still not alive?

My love, it is real, but fake just alike.

filled up with enmity coiling up inside
The chest billows up
Thy want to heave it out
Then destined to tranquility

The claws scratch the flesh
Death gnaws on the remnants of longevity
Unless visions have a chest
To burst out into effervescence

Spontaneous sigh is kicked out of your breath
The clavicles sharpen, the eyes ogle ahead
The nothingness dilates
The flicker has no entrance for itself to adumbrate

For utopia has its own gore
To marvel over inside,
The plasters of bliss
Have guffawed over the gullible dusk

The gloom has left with a whisper
A muttering not to be heard
The relief has sewed on flesh
With the clouds coming out of thy outburst

The relief rebirths the serenity
Has been meandered, halted
For thou shed leaves
Making agony to clouds of no return

Utopic defiance,
the idiosyncratic anectodes
Stains of externalized innundation
For the literal existance of hope.

In our little game,
            It’s never the same.

            Because with every try,
            Came a new lie.
            
            In our imaginary world,
            We gave our word.
        
            The same,
            Goes for the game,
            That played with our minds,
            Twas Forgotten, left Behind.

            Though we survived,
            Our imaginary world,
            Withered and died,
            Without our word.

You've read thousands of words,

Even thousands more from me.

I can't make you read them to the tune of how I feel,

But I can't help but keep trying.

I've never been good at straying from my heart.

Because it beats too loudly.
Beats too strongly.
It beats too much.

And these words are proof.

They're all I've got.
So I'll keep giving until I have nothing left.

I don't know what else to do.