I lost the quintessence
of my rainbow beaded being
along with
the calligraphic indian feather pen.

The blood from my arteries
are replaced with black ink on paper.
The ingenuity of it all.
How much I despise it
the unoriginality ?

Not feeling me in my own words.

My sadness is like a refugee
seeking temporary recluse,
and then decides to make
my soul it’s permanent home.
ripping apart the belongings
of the subsequent owner,
goes by the name of happiness.

turning me to stone.

He had his vision
wouldn't listen
Mother sad
Father angry

He despised advice
discounted the price
Mother sad
Father angry

Shunned his closest friends
wouldn't make amends
Mother sad
Father angry

Finally he went
all arguments spent
Mother and Father despondent.

What do you see* ?
When you shut your weary/gleamy eyes,
Do you see what I see ?
Do you see me ?
Do you see the person you used to be ?
Do you see the ghosts of all the people
who were a part of your insignificant life ?

What do you see ?
The light at the other end or
**Oblivion.

last night you trespassed my dreams once again
it wasn’t your typical lovesick reverie of an infatuated young girl
of stargazing or romantic beach strolls
hand-holding or eskimo kisses
it was honest and simple and unconventional
and to anyone else it would’ve seemed far from memorable
for people tend to escape from reality at dusk
but that ordinary reality was okay with me in a dream
because it was an ordinary reality with you
and thats what made it special

but then, upon realising that, i woke up more despondent that i had fallen asleep.

i'm one lost little girl
but maybe i'm in my place
you wouldn't know, wouldn't care
what's left behind this pretty face

and some people do
some people look at me
with such heartfelt love
and admiration
like i'm some angel
that's come from high above

but what about me?
what makes me so special?
what makes me nervous?
and, what, exactly, makes you think i will call?

i've fallen from grace,
can't you see?
i've terminated my soul
there's no brianna left to be

so *******
but you won't
and i'll be who you want me to be
i'll live this life with you
until i don't

If I come home and find you gone
Then you can't say that I was wrong
I let you go, although it hurt
But you still treat me like I'm dirt

And I have pictures on the wall
Of all the things we used to do
And I'm still waiting for your call
Did those mean anything to you?

You left me
Standing there
Can't you see
I still care?

It's been a month, and I still can't sleep
I think I've fallen down too deep
Lying awake, staring at the floor
Waiting for you to walk through my door

And I had pictures on the wall
Of all the things we did before
Now I'm not waiting for your call
And they're all lying on the floor

Solitude, no pain more bitter nor sweet,
Clings, through heights adored and sorrows deep,
Forever with me alone and steep
Amongst mountains bright,
Yet black amongst valleys dry of blithe and light.

No fear unknown, no death afar,
Nor smile estranged, lucent as this star,
For I know no further bliss nor despair
As sable and as shines,
But no greater desire than for my
Life to forever mingle with thine.