Shall I spill words?
Shall I spill tears?
Or Shall I spill blood?
Indegenious to my nature is the fact,
That it can't stay,
It needs to flow,
It needs to be felt and heard by another existence,
A much kinder and understanding one
Hitherto,
the sacrifice to spill has left a dauntingly adverse repression,
Nothing has sustained,
all has been robbed,
"Shall I spill away all that has been left of me?"she wonders

Do not ask me who I am
Ask me why I am
For that will give me peace
An affirmation of my existence
Amongst the many others God created
A lamb to the slaughter?
who understands the sacrifice she is going to be  put up for and makes peace with it
A clown in a Circus?
One who's duality knows no bounds
A looming shadow?
One with a beating heart
A crow amongst the doves?
Shrewd and menacing
A grasshopper in an ants colony?
Who understands life best in the depth of it's ruins

To debark the root of evi,
l was lead to myself,
Was in ecstacy at that time so it was hard to tell,
I had fallen below that of an ****,
My loyalties had changed and so had my heart
No matter how much I weave it again
This spiders web Is in distain
Turned an tossed, left to rot
My selfish desires invoke no guilt
Now that I can not flee from the web that I have built

Love is the last manifestation of satan
She’s a crimson rose, a veil of fragility
A hidden thorn, a well-kept secret
Her sweet floral embrace cultivates a garden untamed
With weeds budding, obstructing her angelic guise
And soon she whispers of corruption
Disguised as an everlasting symbol of affection.
Her enchanting petals blind and burn
And her touches of devotion fill with insatiable need.
As the weeds wrap around her stem
she screams of blessed corruption
Divine tyranny, Hopeless possession

Glittering sea glass in the windowsill
I remember the ocean
but I'm lonely still.
I don't want to find happiness
through a tight packed pill
give me a value,
and put it in my untimely will.

I found a way out once
and now it's all I can think about
cold black metal
stuck in an open mouth.
Couldn't punctuate the sentence
now I am without
a plan or a passion
its all gone south.

I'm sharp like a bottle struck on the wall
I remember everything
can't forgive at all.
When will all this damage and tossing
do some good
when will I be handled softly
like pine becomes wood?
Looking for a statue of success
where a mother's first disappointment
once stood.