The thorny rose that no one liked; It lacked a petal and had a thousand spikes. The thorns that grew from its roots to leaves Kept the people from touching it. But, this thorny rose once had no thorns at all; It just lacked a single petal, tho, This was enough for it be alone And cursed by all, oh, so much woe. So, she cried a million tears Which soon grew as thorns and nasty leaves. Now no one gives it a second glance, But it doesn't really need anyone's touch.
His name is Carter And he’s all alone In school At home Even on the bus because no one sits next to him,
(But I’ve made an attempt To be his friend But I can’t break free of the honesty That he is extremely annoying So I will leave him to himself Whenever I can)
One day his bag was extra heavy And I could see it But I did not ask about it To not let out the brutal honesty At the end That I really did not care Except my mind went there Courtesy of the news And I looked at the shape Which wasn’t outlined as a rifle So I looked the other way without paying attention anymore And when I knew my safety was not compromised I did not care about why it was so heavy
I stood behind him in line when His bag bumped against me and I pushed it out of my face because What a nuisance!
He turned around looking annoyed and quite frankly I did not care about his feelings
The rest got carried away. Not real. Based on a real person but not a real story. Part one.
I've been in the rain I've given others my time time lost to the chance that being in the open would make me feel as so would tan my pale demeanor give my loneliness something to hold turn my fear to boon
I now hold that that is not the case for true nature is always an honest monster how could I be so naive? was it not the cruel world's air that sent me into hiding?
I should return to my dark comfort my cave of paranoia the only friend that always welcomes me understands my need to be alone to be fragile in a safe cell guarded, protected a perfect excuse my reason to be recluse
May take a bit to come down from seclusion. Climbing for a gain, knew what I was losing. It's on the T that time is balanced, and I've seen it cemented. It's on the scene with all the extras, and I've seen myself in the crowd.
My thorns turn blunt My shields let arrows through My life-risking stunt has left me life-still too The echo comes from muttered den The day's too violent To youth that be I shout "Plague me again, miscreant" The cave's ajar The wounds are fresh The head spins, body scarred Treacle of death The cold that swallowed me It burns the soul that's spent To love that reaching tries I shout "Plague me again, miscreant"
This was supposed to be a longer song lyrics, but I don't have the means of recording or any instrumental skill, so I gave up on that.