I'm a prisoner of my own making sat on my bed looking around at the four surrounding
for It's there that I live and done so for the last ten
years and I'm a prisoner of my own making for the wrong choices made to early In
life not taking opportunities when they were presented to
me through lack
fate playing a big part In my failings In life
So I'm a prisoner of my own choosing possibly?
Sometimes I think I'm a prisoner of my own making
Black sky with pale light compared to your beauty, Nothing is more right or worth a fight
Your smile looks so bright on this starry night
Tints of blues, wondering how are you?
She begins to stare and laugh into the air
Will my chances be forever there?
Her sparkling eyes as beautiful as a diamond in the sky
Why oh' why is your smile so close yet, so far...
My mouth reaches for her from afar through the distance of the bar
Your smile goes up towards the moonlight,
Your heart goes towards the sun
My thought go towards my ***'
I found a girl in class with an interesting bright smile. I wonder how she can smile like that? Should I ask? (I hope for her sake its reality.)
We can lay here all day
*** every now and again
trips to get high too,
days fly by
is it Saturday? or Monday ?
i think we got together on a Thursday
i would let all my days fly by
as long as you were here
You must be settling.
That's what you told me.
Me and you, I'm must be reaching...
You and him, seems like it's reversed.
And what do you want?
I know more than you think.
That's why I always reach.
I see the best and learn to love the rest.
Everybody I love is the best.
Why do you pain me so?
It may be my fault.
My feelings are my law.
But then again, what do I know?
I think of you more
And yet you think of me less
I've messed this up now.
If only for once
Maybe this time I'll make it
Just maybe I'll be
Be able to not fake it
Maybe let them see
Possibly the truth for once
©2014, Brittle Bird
But can our hearts
Tie with time
My fingers get tangled
Between the fiery strands
Of her hair,
The strings of my heart
Restitched in cross-pattern arrays,
A web laced with black nail polish
And a deep, humbling green
That rolls through my body,
Much like the shock of chills do
When her lips brush against my own.
— The End —