“As you know, my past love, Sabre, I’ve never written a poem ever in my entire life of living but I have now...for you. Seemingly, it is the only way anyone can liaise with you. ‘Hear me’...
Desire me fair lord, my king and heart
With the maid of good sense to love another not true
To shew me evils and goods in all one speck of light, in all by god’s greatest might
Without me; think not, it canst not ever be for love this trow’d that only seed
I saith to this man of my godly torch, to alight life if I ever to die
For you there wilt be only me,
But thou art not loveless nor solus
Let the cosmos be thy friend and god thy brother
Soon life anew.

Go to sleep, Close your eyes,
Dream of broken butterflies
That tore their wing against a thorne.
You know the pain that  they have borne.

Silver medal, shines so bright
Scarlette blood, that feels so right.
Dream of that blood trickling down,
And wake up just before you drown.

The moonlights shining off your tears,
As you bleed your own worst fears,
So tonight when you start to cry,
Whisper the cutters lullaby.

Hushabye baby, your almost dead.
You dont have a pulse and your pillow is red.
Your family hates you, your friends let you bleed.
Sleep tight with a knife because thats all you need.

Rockabye baby, broken and scarred,
You didnt know that  life would be this hard.
Time to end the pain you hid so well,
And down will come baby, straight back to hell.

i sit in front on my grandfathers shop
where he collects and cuts his butchered meat
i patiently wait in the dusk of sunlight
soaking up the last droplets of summer heat
deep mountain woods grow with the darkness
as the scarlette sky turns to night
and the stars come out; and the crickets cry
i hold a rifle in my hand, but out of sight
my grandfathers cigarette smoke fills the air
cold steel laid softly, as i breath as little as i can
tomorrow i’ll be dreaming of this moment now
without any care, without any plans

i sit in front on my grandfathers shop
where he collects and cuts his butchered meat
i patiently wait in the dusk of sunlight
soaking up the last droplets of summer heat
deep mountain woods grow with the darkness
as the scarlette sky turns to night
and the stars come out; and the crickets cry
i hold a rifle in my hand, but out of sight
my grandfathers cigarette smoke fills the air
cold steel laid softly, as i breath as little as i can
tomorrow i’ll be dreaming of this moment now
without any care, without any plans