I hope you never reach
The day
Where you are lost for words
Because they're tangled up in
Agony.

I hope you never reach
The point
Where your innocence of
The world is
Robbed.

I hope you choose
Your friends and
Lovers wisely
So that you never have to
Discover what it feels like
To see those who you believed
Would take a bullet for you
Dance behind the
Trigger.

You made a poet fall in love with you
And expected her not to write sonnets about your eyes
Haikus about the way you kissed her in the moonlight
Expected the fire in her heart not to inspire couplets
You made a poet fall in love with you, and when you left
Expected her not to write pages about the ache in her chest
Write a soliloquy dedicated to her tears
Expected her not to feel every gut wrenching moment of the pen hitting paper like your words hit her in the most vulnerable places of her mind.
You made a poet fall in love with you, and you expected her to be silent.
That is no fault of hers.

Life is not all rainbows and butterflies.
Just ask the ones that lie inside,
Lifeless and dull.
Fluttering their wings inside my skull,
Torturing me until I have died.
Life is not all rainbows and butterflies.

Eternal brood the shadows on this ground,
Dreaming of centuries that have gone before;
Great elms rise solemnly by slab and mound,
Arched high above a hidden world of yore.
Round all the scene a light of memory plays,
And dead leaves whisper of departed days,
Longing for sights and sounds that are no more.

Lonely and sad, a specter glides along
Aisles where of old his living footsteps fell;
No common glance discerns him, though his song
Peals down through time with a mysterious spell.
Only the few who sorcery's secret know,
Espy amidst these tombs the shade of Poe.

There's an ancient, ancient garden that I see sometimes in dreams,      
   Where the very Maytime sunlight plays and glows with spectral gleams;  
   Where the gaudy-tinted blossoms seem to wither into grey,              
   And the crumbling walls and pillars waken thoughts of yesterday.        
   There are vines in nooks and crannies, and there's moss about the pool,
   And the tangled weedy thicket chokes the arbour dark and cool:          
   In the silent sunken pathways springs a herbage sparse and spare,      
   Where the musty scent of dead things dulls the fragrance of the air.    
   There is not a living creature in the lonely space arouna,              
   And the hedge~encompass'd d quiet never echoes to a sound.              
   As I walk, and wait, and listen, I will often seek to find              
   When it was I knew that garden in an age long left behind;              
   I will oft conjure a vision of a day that is no more,                  
   As I gaze upon the grey, grey scenes I feel I knew before.              
   Then a sadness settles o'er me, and a tremor seems to start -          
   For I know the flow'rs are shrivell'd hopes - the garden is my heart.

Blood is thicker than water
That's what they taught her
But the blood of the covenant is thicker
Her thoughts on life flicker

She couldn't care less what they whisper
It won't change her mind, it won't effect her
But here's the kicker
Thoughts of suicide are always with her

Curiosity killed the cat
She thinks too much of that
But here's a matter of fact
Satisfaction brought her back

Blind as a bat she feels
With a hope she never reveals
But lets not forget
All the things she hides with deep regret

Gild the lily
So, she tells herself to do this truly
But her thoughts they rig
For how can she justify putting lipstick on a pig?

No rest for the wicked
This is not the life she picked
But even with the promise of grace
She knows no peace

She's hidden from view
Even from you
But well behaved women rarely make history
So she'll remain a mystery

One must consider the final result
So, when she leaves it's not your fault
But on brighter thoughts she leans
Because the end justifies the means