Is anyone real out there? What a horrible question to tear Apart this life, Which always rhymes with strife Because there's a limited number of ways To say we're running short of plays To fill these broken days
I don't think I'm better than anyone I don't think I'm magically The One But I also don't feel real And here's the whole spiel
Maybe these bones are made to rust At the intersection of fear and trust 'Cos all this pain is just reflection Every fear is just projection Insanity - I cannot condone If we want to be free, do we have to be alone?
Whatever else is true, whatever ways I'll rot - I truly love you; words are all I've got The 4's attachment is being broken; All that's expressed is just a token I can only show the 2d shell And so I Truly wish you well But I'd sooner save you from this spell
Hey broken one: are you reading yet? This is for you, so don't forget The rhythm doesn't matter All words will fade, left in tatters
And though this path we can't condone I swear to you: you're not alone. You're somewhere amidst the thought and ****; I bid to you: please stop and look
The slightest difference between we: I'm a permutation of thee I know the things you cannot say I, too, seek each shattered Way Combing The NeverNever every day For another reason to stay.
I know you fear you've fallen wrong, But there's beauty in your song; Long past the end of time, What's true will shine through every rhyme.
Because I know you'll stalk me someday; the curiosity won't let you stay at bay.
Here's a poet's plight: To force words to come is a fight; Gorgeous nothings hold no light; Meaning shall not bow to might.
Thirty thousand words or more – All just sounds heard before; But somewhere deeper there's a door, A certain feeling from some core.
Or, in clearer words: I have nothing Great to say, but That shouldn't stop me anyway From speaking when I feel I must; No other way to reverse this rust.
Perfection is a savage Curse to ravage the mind 'Round and round in circles, growing blind.
But of all the stones and stars Or overpriced, shiny cars The greatest gift of all you give Is that you let me gently live.
You accept me as I am, Tarred and scarred and marred with gray, There's a thousand whispers, but they're all okay When they won't be judged anyway.
There's this frustrating little tic Where no words can quite click Because no lovely language can compress or stress enough meaning into a tiny little space That could give a hint of a trace Of the meaning that was felt.
Suffice to say it seems somehow insufficient, Nothing Great, simply true: You're wonderful as you.
Oh Bleeding Heart up on a shelf You always tug on mine So rough around the edges but without withholding any thought You paint the surest picture of humanity Watching you becomes like being pierced with rainbow needles It seems the Way you sing your life You can’t open your mouth without spitting blood You have your teeth and need no knife I wish I was inspired to write for you a balm But no such calm intrudes Type 4s incite each other Fire feeding off of Fire fighting for a stage at once against and together