The world is made of ****
and I'm a joker to the story
Gone in a moment of bliss
because I didn't seek glory
-- bore me

"It's a new day tomorrow",
they say ignorant and hollow
"Seek your dreams and a great life will follow"
however the flaming lord is still waiting below
-- drag me to the galow

A smile turned to a frown,
I'm sorry to let you down
But gone is my clown
and now begins my countdown

Brown town bring me the crown
Make me king of **** and let Minaj be the next centuries hit,
flick her *** while we drown in spit from Trump the Dump, a camel has two lumps
-- ****

Burn me and put me in an urn
All we want is money to earn
When will we learn that happiness should be our biggest concern?

Happiness: Hidden in society and locked away in plastic, happiness is free but requires a key
-- fantastic
All the while probably as fake as the *** of the Kardashian, and just as far fetched as the marsian

We say we are all a part of the innocent
but then who are we to blame for the mess we make?

Society was the cell
Self doubt was the lock
My thoughts were the chains
My insecurities were the steel door
And confidence was the key
-EC

my heart.
feels weighed down.
it has been carved out
the moment I feel safe.

you leave me
with the key I presumed
you would handle with care
the locksmith closed down.

luckily, I had a couple of spares
but, they are hidden away,
I thought I hid them well,
I spared them for safety.

I knew that they could not be copied,
they couldn't be recklessly handed out,
I'd done that too much,
had so much stolen from me overnight.

I don't think my life would bear another break in
I have one left and I've hidden it so well,
I don't even know where it is anymore.
Which I think in the end might be a good thing.

The person who claims that key will naturally know how to obtain it, even if I don't.
Considering they are the only one with the last copy.

before you,
there was a door, bolted shut
(inside)
that I did not know existed.
Have you ever passed a door without knowing of
its existence?
Then, one day, something inexplicably extraordinary happens –
(like you)
and the door becomes your entire world, the focal point
of your life.
You question how it is possible to not have noticed that **** door
in your entire life.
(I just needed the proper key)
Maybe others have pointed it out to you before, but failed
in their charge to make it worth your while.
But you, my dear, kicked it wide open.
To the blinding truth beyond.
(And it terrified me)
(But you gave me courage)
And now, you opened a door.
The Door.
That will lead to others, I am certain.
And I am ready to walk through it.
But, oh God, am I sad.
(this unending, unyielding torrent of grief)
Because you, my sweet harbinger of Things to Come,
will not be coming with me.
I will
(I must, God help me)
leave you at The Door.

I keep a lot of things
Inside a box under my bed
All the confessions left unspoken
All the things I never said

All the silenced "I love you"s
Every drowned out "please"
Every word I've ever swallowed
I keep them under lock and key

So every time that I seem quiet
When I refuse to make a sound
That's just me adding a new collection
To my box that will never be found

But maybe one day I'll find someone special, who really cares to see
Who will reach into my coat pocket
And find my secret key

Maybe then we'll sit together
And look at every one
I think I'll be able to talk much better
With every knot and noose undone

But I suppose that's just a dream of mine
And all these words drawn out with lead
Are just a new addition
to the box under my bed