The gun's cold barrel against my head
If I pull the trigger then I'll be dead
I'll paint the wall with my blood so red
Free from the world, I will be dead.

Or swing my neck, from a rope
I've given up the notion of hope
And none will care, or cry or mope
They won't even notice, or so I hope

I just shouldn't have said a single thing,
then my ears would not ring,
with the sound of the pain, living will bring
and I wouldn't have to hear, the angels sing.

Oh well, too late now.

Radiant, beautiful, orbs of grey,
one look infinitely, brightened my day.
Strands of red-gold, falling flawlessly
my mind dreaming, wildly, lawlessly.
A sound I hadn't heard in too long,
that confused my heart, spawning this song.

I had the words, but I forgot.
Lately that's happened a lot.
I don't see the point in writing,
You got bored, I should be done fighting.
But I'm not and I know it too,
the only one who doesn't, seems to be you.

Before it happens, I always know
I've had only, one surprising blow,
But it doesn't matter, and neither do you,
she's gone, and now, you are too.

Staring deep, into the fire, as it dies,
I've come to see, that it all was lies.
But now I forget your once perfect voice,
That's what you want, and it was your choice.
But the beat of your heart, pulsing with haste,
Lying in my arms, as they wrapped round your waist.  
That memory shall take longer, much longer, to die,
Too bad even that memory, was naught but a lie.

Sing, Goddess, a poem worthy of my love
As beautiful as Venus, lady of the dove
Sing, Goddess, for my muse has run dry
Yet the muses are immortal, never to die
Sing, Goddess, Erato hear my plea
I need a poem good enough, for my love to see.

My favourite colour, has long since been grey
But I didn't know why, until today
I envy grey, grey doesn't commit
Any strong emotion, well grey isn't it
Grey's not red anger, red hate, or  red love,
Blue sadness, yellow fury or perfection's white dove.
No, grey is nothing, no emotion, no pain,
no commitment, no dichotomies, I want that again.