It wasn't a seed
It was the demon's egg that was buried
Deeply in my heart
The demon starts to crawl

He grows bigger and bigger
He starts to climb to my ear
The words he whispered
Become louder and louder
"**** him Peter"
"Proof your love to her"
"To hell you put her lover"
"Feel the happines of his crying in his torture"

It can't be
The demon have the control of me
All of these hate
Got me lost in faith

I can't do it
But the tendecies
Grows slowly
And it slowly killing me
But I have to bare it

Because she have the joy in him
Eternal joy it seems
Nothing could break them apart
Because their love is solid and hard

And I fear
To drop her tears
As it slowly dripping
And falls down from her chin

I won't let that happen
And I will fight the demon
Till he dies
Or my heart dies

think my father hates me
or maybe he just detests
the way i trap hearts like flies
and i don't call back, even when they beg
for a chance to be alive again
him & i
we rise together with stormy eyes
and bipolar tendecies

i hate him too
the way he sits there in his unflourishing dependency
on conspiracy theories and how meds will **** me

so we sit in the tint of blue on a couch that's
barely made for two.
the house is now broken down
with ivy trees that can see into my history.
it eats me alive and speaks whispers of things i cant believe.
it says, "baby don't you know... nostalgia is disgusting,
especially when you can't see what i see."
so i ask her what she can see.
ivy. the envious torture of it all. and i leave like i always do. in a pile of ash, guts, and a couple "*******'s"