Does death permit an individual to pass
on being apart of this world, while alive?
I’m I an eternal lost or avoiding a predestined life?
For I know who to create from nothing, flame life,
while provide reasons not to smile. Marking marks
and jacking hearts. Is my mood based of having
one foot in this world, while the other is in mine?
Many of us pursue impluse solutions, while in a
breathless fashion, pass what is made for us.
No one can ever find true beauty in poetry or art,
it’s not seen in everyday life. To what is made for
us, can only be lived. For why I’ve I lived in passion
and to have no pairs of eyes noticed? Or is it the
burdens of being an introvert? I have kept a front
for this world as I cry in the metaphysical world.
https://www.amazon.com.au/Inherent-Sin-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07FR5FW42/ref=sr12?ie=UTF8&qid=1535754370&sr=8-2&keywords=darcy+prince

I believe it was the sawdust of summer when I found your voice in a shadow of a song it reminded me of my past hurt. You sang so beautifully of lilacs and photogenic water, you build harmonies powerful enough to save angels in a storm.

Quickly I caught on and held tight to your butterflies you called lyrics. You spoke of love like you had a doctrine in it. I thought for men love was a learning curve. You proved me wrong. You did not just create music and magic you birth colors out of sound and called them stories.

You blurred the lines between reality and fantasy. I bet your music is similar to the way God speaks. I bet you discovered a guitar inside of a black deity and the piano inside of a white devil's broken heart.  

Prince, I bet you can play anything even the fossils of flowers.
Your music is an endless drug, a purple high. Listening to you made me feel like all four seasons cuddled up with a kiss.
Tell me when did you get tired of playing love songs?

When did balancing the moon and a microphone become all too much for you? Who choked the life out of your vocal chords? ****, I would give almost anything to hear you live again! To wear your songs in my ears like Heirlooms.  Oh Wait, I think I get it. Is this how you go beyond means of self to teach us dead silence is music too?

I crave my own fairy tale
I want someone who feels like poetry
To rid the hopelessness from my romantic heart
And share with me a happily ever after

I don't need a prince or white knight
A pauper or squire is all that I desire
I don't require a gallant quest or noble steed
Eyes that are just for me is all that I need

I'll write my own tale to fill your storybook
Every page a poem of waiting
Till one day they are no longer of longing
And are filled with ode's to my one true love

“someday my prince will come”
cinderella sung that...
i believed it to be true

my prince never came
no prince ever would want
a servant girl

i've battled demons
i've been to hell and back to get here
and you still think i'm weak?
you'll never know how strong you or i are
until we've been shattered and had to
rebuild ourselves alone.
prince charming wont come to a broken princess.
maybe he will to you, but he didn't to me.

Unluckily, not every frog you kiss turns into a Prince Charming.

Moods erupt internally like if embers
turned to lightning, sparkling fireflies
wanting to turn permanent marble burning
fires that fuel passion. Lungs breathing
out poetry as it’s supposed to live when
reciting. Ripping the wind open, both
echos in whispers and loudness like
thunder booms. In deepening weight, leaving
homage for future generations in humanity.
Taking scents of strawberries and in drenched
of mysticism. Velvet stain lodging in minds
of the capable thinkers and spat out new
philosophy in response to that poetry from
a unknown pair of lungs. Let everyone
revolt against current standards and permit
a new way of living. As myth turned to reality.