Unborn and already
A path has been chosen
By those that are not them -
To become another cog
In the inescapable machine that is society.

Born - early, half dead.
A step toward failure in
The eyes of their creator
For what they cannot control -
To be fixed and set right
On the path that they will learn to detest.

Developing - on time
To the doctors’ surprise.
The creator gives praise,
But the approval never lasts -
The environment is unsteady and
Unfit for angels to properly grow.

Learning - to please
Instead of exist as one’s own,
Matured in the wrong ways
For an angel of that age -
Molded to never cause concern
No matter the magnitude of circumstance.

An inconvenience to their maker
Unless they could be shown off
For the benefit of the creator -
In private often belittled
And ignored for so much as being a child.

In public a model,
A display of perfection -
Quiet, reserved. Listens well.
A miniature of their puppetmaster
(As what the creator allowed to be seen).

Yearning - to deviate
To become their own
Without the wrath that
Has always followed a stray
From the carefully chosen path
That their master has made so
Impossibly unachievable.

Desperate - attempting to remove
Their wings, Trying everything to
Fall from grace -
To be cast aside and never acknowledged
Or cared for again.
An attempt to be free
Executed in the worst ways -
Broken and bleeding they
Almost always return to
The way it was before as
Their creator sees nothing but
A way to start over and
Mold them once again
Into something unattainable.

For the rest of eternity
All the angels who taste individuality
Pursue endlessly that
Momentary tinge of
Identity; willing to
Try anything and
Everything to become
Angels of their own
Once again, well
If you could call them that.

I may be all in black,
But promise inside is darker,
Haven't you ever heard?
Never judge a book by it's cover.

The darkness,
A beautiful thing,
That surrounds my mind,
You are my light,
My life,
My love,
Without you
The tears stream down, for my problems come crashing in,
But when I’m with you,
The world goes scilent,
Your voice,
Better than music.
Draws me in,
But when you aren’t here,
I remember,
The painful touch of life,
The callas way it moves,
I miss you, when you aren’t online,
I wish you were here
I wish I could comfort you out of sorrow, but I cannot touch you,
I have known much pain,
But this hurts more.
Than any broken bone,
Or hurtful word,
I want to take care of you, to love you,
To share our darkness,
But I cannot touch you,
I cannot show you what you mean to me,
I love you
I love you
My dark soulmate.

Paint my eyes with hues of purple.
Cake my lips in black.
Dye my hair blue and call me a maniac.
Tie a rose to my neck, the colour of blood shall do.
Thick black eyeliner is far overdue.
I'm not terribly depressed.
I just enjoy the peace found in death.
I'm not that messed up.
Yet stories of torture are so beautiful and dark.
I love a haunting piano-based tune.
But screaming is just as elegant too...

If I could tell you,
every thing you want to know,
I would,
but my walls are to hard to take down,
but every time,
you speak to me,
they crumble to the ground,
and i hope, you'll be by my side,
when death succumbs to me...
beautiful boy who cares,
you sing a song that only I can hear,
I cant get enough of you,
the happy little messages you send to me,
i cant explain,
you aren't like other boys.
oh, beautiful boy,
I've never felt this way before!
all the other girls and  boys I've been with,
i never truly love this hard,
you understand my darkness,
you under stand my deadly thoughts,
Oh walk through the strawberry fields with me,

saying nothing is real,
walking on starlight and dancing in moon dust,
your  hair capturing the shine of the night,
i want to give you the universe,
and hold your hand,
falling through the sun by your side,
capturing the light of your eyes,
picture yourself,
falling through time,
what thoughts will flow through your mind?
your hands held in mine,
in synchronized meditation,
open up your third eye,
were your atoms next to mine?
did our souls entwine?
picture yourself,
laying in a field of grass,
with your head next to mine,
watching the butterflies glide,

the seasons are changing,
are you still next to me?
with the leaves off the trees,
this isn't electric,
this is calm,
with explosive colors,
i'm not falling,
i'm walking,
i'm willingly going to you...
are you walking to me?
do you picture it too?