Your like the night skies,
beautiful but scary.
I don't know what lingers in the dark,
whats going on with you inside.
But you give off a gleam of beauty,
of stillness;
of hope.
                                            yours truly,
                                                              . . .

Finding your way, enjoying the days
everything is led up to these beautiful days.
everything is going good,
everything is going great;
when your stuck never finding out
what day ill soon take.

Always on the run,
running from everything.
Never pleased, never happy,
just lost in your own way.
Can't sleep, cant breath;
everything is pushing in.
Everything seems to be gone while your
stuck,
stuck in the wind.
Stuck in your own mind.

I don't always need to go out
i cant even think of how it would be.
conversating with other when they have no room to think;
no room to think about the most important things in life,
only room to think "hey, do you think i can get that guy?"
No i cant do it, not at all;
to busy stuck communicating with the people in the wall.
There more open minded,
more wise... more alive.
                                                       yours truly,
                                                          ­           . . .

She played me like a game
And i was so oblivious.
I let her lead me in time;
thinking i was the only patient.
my eyes cry more than they ever did before
i wait for her to see me, but she noticed all along.
they say heartbreak takes time to get over;
but i'm running out of time,
i though she was a fallen angel needing me to guide.
But instead i fall in the trap she set in my mind.
my eyes are dried no more tears to come out,
now i just sit in this drought caused by emotions.
                                                       yours truly,
                                                                       . . .

The hearts of their old souls beat fast
His breath taken from him.
An optical illusion to some eyes
yet simple to mine.
         She dances in the moonlight rays,
        He prays to see her again someday.
        She dances her way off the stage;
        into the dark abyss.
He cries at the thought of seeing her again,
Forever wishing to have just one last glimpse one last kiss again.
He cries and weeps,
like a faucet in a sink;
            While they all fell bad for there love story,
            such a short story.
beeeep
beeeep
He wakes up astonished;
looking in a gaze; proud to see another day.
Just to realize
His love was taken yesterday.
                                                      ­     yours truly,
                                                          ­                . . .

Shes a work of art they say
"A miserable young thing isn't she?"
They don't understand her mind and thoughts
But me; i see whats behind the curtains
What shes been trying to show us
She's a work of art
Isn't she?
                          yours truly,
                                           . . .