I paint over
the true colors
that they show me.
But they blend
and I no longer know
what color it is.
It's a mix
and that is how
mixed signals are created.
They are not made by them.
They are made by you.
I'm showing him new
ways to *****.
Try to forget the past
lovers, especially the last.
I let him bite and chew
on my recipe for the stew.
Let the precious events glide
while I sat and lied.
But I wouldn't call them
lovers, as they made me numb.
They would sit and stare
with another affair.
They wouldn't want to do
the things he asks me to.
Your fingertips planted trees on me.
You left a forrest
full of life.
But with no rain
there was no healthy leafs.
So the forrest crumbled.
And I cut the tress down
for I did not wish
to have a memory of you
on my body.
Yet, roots of the forrest
remained deep beneath my skin.
And I will now forever,
if I wish or not,
have memories of your fingertips.
Slam the door upon my face.
Don't look,
think
or act.
Just stand behind the door
silent,
and anxious.
Wait for me to make a move.
Let me do
what you should have done.
Thats the easiest way
I can think of you
to live a life
where the sun doesn't rotate.
Because sometimes
doing nothing
is easier than doing everything.
And trust me
I will do everything for you.
Bleach my heart,
my eyes and my mouth.
Strangle love out of me
till I scream and shout.
Let my skin turn red,
purple and blue.
Feed me till I drop dead
with an apple from Peru.
Scream at me, scream!
Let there be steam
coming out of your ears
to awaken my fears.
Hold me tight and whisper
till your lips gets blisters.
Beat me ******
roar loud.
Show me that your proud
of the hot heavy tears
that stream down my face.
They are just for you
and don't bring me a tissue.
Get a job,
a husband or wife.
Make yourself comfortable
in your own life.
So they tell me
or would have told me
if they were still alive.
But they are dying slowly
by the magic pills.
They are no longer there
to protect and care.
I no longer have devils
that whisper and scream.
They can do both
but now they are doing non.
And I can see myself having fun,
not caring or staring
into nothingness.
Yet it leaves me in mourning
to know they are about to die.
Maybe if I hold on a little longer
I won't be lonely and then find myself
a job, husband or wife.
I question wether heaven has gates
and if the Devil is their master.
If his fingertips has the power
to leave me out of paradise.
If he will turn me down
for what my mind has made me do.
Is there a reason they tell me to **** you
Was there a reason for this madness,
this chaos in my head.
I think there is but
will the Devil let me in?
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