How do you breathe so silent?
I grow more and more
labored in each breath.
I remember the days
you told me to never be like you.
Well I’m not. I’m certainly different,

possibly worse.

You always hear it, of the Cut.
The one that goes too deep.
The one that makes the crimson flow strong, and the pulse weak.
The one that breaks a sibling's heart, and causes tears to fall from a parent's eye.
The one that makes the whole world stop.
The Cut is irreversible. The Cut is final.
And things shouldn't be final.
That's the whole point of living, isn't it?
To write your own destiny, to make things better than they once were.
A moment's sadness may not compare to the lifetime of joy that could be on the horizon.
Yet, it's hard to see when the fog is thick and the sky is bleak.
Just remember the sun is there, waiting for you to feel it.

and I can love you in my heart
but I cant love you in my arms
and its the worst part of reality

How do you say goodbye to someone you can not live without?

This is no life,
Ev'r being invisible.
Our shadows know each other not.
Every night we arrive here,
At top of hill, under owl's secret bow'r,
To ****** her ancient, solitary reign,
Near imagin'd tow'r.
We dance around our fires,
Some singing, a few braying,
This is our noon-night dance.
Some great secret hidden among the folds of the hill.
We here, we shadows, are a rather strange coven.
We come here to feel,
Every individual among the hidden.
We all are numb before this hill,
We radiate sameness in the fake world out there,
But here we are as different as the Moon from the Sun,
Our two personalities no longer clashing.
As the little sparkle of freedom,
The untainted, dark-light finally shines through,
As it spreads and ensnare our senses,
We feel,
We feel the light-heat soothing numb limbs,
We feel the heat-light caressing strange, blue hearts.
And here we are,
Fully, finally, awakened.
                               -MoonFirefly

You can think of people a vases
Each one is unique
Each holds something special inside...
Or maybe nothing at all

Some are in perfect condition
Some are lightly chipped
While others...
They are smashed on hard tile

Each one has seen the passing of different things
Each has a personality all it's own
But yet...
People tend to like them better when they are matching

The truth dear is
I need your help
In pasting my vase back together...
Just don't try to find or understand it's hidden contents






that will tear me apart

Millionaires in empty boxes
barricaded in bath robes.
Self-righteous sundries
sit still for that sunset they'll
never see, like "Layla" playing
with a gang of good fellas.

The trench took a bit, but
they're not worried. It will be
filled-in still-lifes well before
wives find out. Tough love
rises above the rest; especially
when you're pumping hot lead.