she left a mark on his SOUL that looked a little like ROSE PETALS in a blooming bouquet of LOVE but when she had to LEAVE the THORNS dug so harshly into his HEART that his LOVE for her turned BITTER and COLD like the harshest WINTER night and the MEMORY of her CARESS withered to DUST and ASH and when she RETURNED with her LOVE for him made of BOUQUETS of RED ROSES all he could MUSTER was a HATE for ROSE PETALS and the THORNS on their stems
But if I am mad then how aren't you? Perhaps you are mad and I am sane
How does one know if one is sane? How does one know if one is insane?
But is insanity a luxury? Or is the luxury sanity?
What if one was sane but recognised the sanity as insanity? Would one be insane then?
Or perhaps one was insane but to the eye insanity was sanity? Would one be sane then?
What if sanity was insanity and insanity sanity? Would the lack of clarity over insanity and sanity be but a normality?
Or is the true clarity that insanity is a normality? For who is sane?
Is it I? I, who dreams dreams and inner thoughts are most shy?
Who wakes when she sleeps And sleep when she wakes?
Perhaps we are all in subdued insanity If so isn't insanity a normality and sanity out clarity?
Or insanity is our clarity? And sanity is a dreamed up notion for normality?
Who is mad? Is it I?
Or the world in which there is no clarity over insanity and sanity? And there is nothing but a formality which is normality which should or should not be insanity?
Moonlight sonata a mystery, a delight, passionate, rain even more rainy, I stunned, I cried, meaningful, the chords, amazing, dark-romantic tune, remain, soultry, unforgetable. I fall so deep.
Bring in the storm; I have stood in the middle of the worst. Bring in the thunder; I have slept peacefully through the loudest. Bring in the flood; I have walked in many. It's nothing.
Bring it in. Bring it on. You think I'll scamper and fall?
Bring it in. Bring it all in. I'll face it head on.
Bring it on if all you can do is shoot. I tell you. I never fall. I bend your bullets with my thumb.
Bring it on if that's all you have. You do make me stronger.
Is that all you have? Is that?
**Bring it on.
Is that all you have- words that you said are bullets? You fail us just because? Is that the best you can do? Is that the worst you can give? haha you make me laugh Just bring it on. 'Cause soon enough, I know I'll grow stronger with every bullet I bend.
She's the artist of love She creates every piece of art By getting a tiny piece of her heart Every song are words That echoes from her spirit Every stroke of brush Contains a song from within Every poem she writes Has the color of her paint Every story she tells Has the verse of her soul She's an artist in love