I wish I could write again.
Like I used to when I was sad.
I'd write and it was beautiful and creative
Because the most sad things are the also the most creative.
But things have changed.
And I can no longer write.
Because I no longer feel sad.
I just feel nothing.

This is how our story began
Not once upon a time,
but just hidden in the lines
And circles that surrounded all our crimes,
A CYCLE OF PSYCHOPATHIC LOVE THAT ALL THESE OTHERS POETS FAILED TO DESCRIBE
Sometimes I but wonder how I out-matched the world in terms of defining Love
Take it this way;
IF I GAVE YOU MY HEART IN AN ENVELOPE, WOULD YOU RETURN IT BACK OR WOULD YOU KEEP IT SAFE BESIDES YOUR HEART?  
I am here to talk about Art; you see
But you know you're a masterpiece in my Gallery
Ooh so but poor, I have no Masters but I am a Mastermind
And I hope you dont mind if I take you to a place where the Monsters hide
cause I plan on making you not only a bride!
I just grab my pen and rhyme about my serial killer girlfr'nd that loves to play with her knives
CAUSE THE WORDS "i love you" IN THIS GENERATION ARE SO OUT OF FASHION, RATHER YOU SHOW IT BY ALL YOUR ACTIONS
I took my serial killer girlfr'nd in on a date at my place
I took my kitchen knife
and told her to end my life
just to die happy by her side!

Waves crash like your dreams
Changing and always rolling toward the shore
Loves are sea splattered
Your smiles are beach drenched
Seaweed in your hair
And you present a mystery