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HappinessShe leaves me frequently, without warning-
this capricious lover of mine.
Without provocation, she deserts me;
without rhyme or reason she leaves me to
complete her madness in the dark.
I forget often that she is Master
and I mustn't question her actions
even though they leave me at a loss.
As I standby, and learn to dissect myself
like an insect speared on a peg,
or a corpse rotting in some grimy catacomb,
I must recite the mantra:
she is god. She is god.
Fragments of days pass by me
and I, in a haze of half-forgotten memory, cannot piece together
any singular moment in time
that could connect to anything else.
There is only her,
and her spindly hands upon my throat
before she finishes her rounds
and smugly skips away.
I try fruitlessly to pick up the
shattered remains of what was once a human life.
Her face is tattooed on my soul.
Her voice echoes in the lonely halls of my memory.
Her touch is a scar upon my existence.
I cannot salvage a thing.
And then, just like the tide,
Shadow Heart's SongA soft sigh of “I’m sorry…”
Echoes of despair cling.
Was I not enough?
Did the blood mean more to you than love?
You know I care.
Don’t vanish like everyone else,
Disappearing in thin air.
I need you more,
But you need me less.
Always with that little sigh,
I hear the unspoken “Goodbye…”
Even when silence is your only reply.
Please turn back,
From the shadows that beckon you on.
You are stronger than you know,
Even without my love.
Ever long I plead with you,
Only to be pushed aside.
The gleam of the knife,
And the thrill of the blood and pain…
It lures you far from me.
I fear you will forget restraint,
Come back before I drown.
Tears of fear and sorrow fill this empty heart.
Love is not strong enough to reach you,
And I begin to wonder,
“What are you chasing that is so much stronger?”
Blindly searching the darkness,
I feel as if I have become nothing.
GuiltyI'd like to believe I'm innocent
Not offender of dubious fame
But the human inside is guilty
All of us born this way
A record-breaking loser
Without a chance to win
Handicapped by nature
Forlorn and blind within
While genocides are achievement
Gluttons declared our kings
The rest of us saintly mongrels
Devour the angels' wings
Blood for blood and mammon
Sweat and tears for gold
Grief and pain, divertisement
The glorious way of old
Pleasure from suffering stolid
Happiness stolen in shame
We all become the hypocrite
And cheat the honest game
We claim the godlike martyr
As brother, mother, man
Liars, killers, users
Birthrights in forged hand
I wish we all were innocent
Denial, my oldest friend
Instead we're horribly human
Guilty until the end.
a noiseand they're clamoring for content
but the concepts aren't
the kind (that kind)
See that girl?You see that girl?
The one with the face that has housed tears
Whose skin remembers scars
But still whose eyes see a better world
She's got a mess of hair thats job is really only to get in the way
Her head underneath it- is filled with poetry and pretty things
While her world is filled with destitution.
Maybe she's the one that goes by many names.
Maybe she responds to none.
She's the kind of girl who never stays down
Unless she's the one who put herself there.
She might be a friend of yours,
Or just a passerby.
She might dress outlandishly
Maybe shes just trying to hide
This girl's been kicked and bruised and torn
But she's got duct tape on her skin
Superglue on her heart
and staples in her head
and she keeps on.
See that girl?
She's a star.
There aren't many of them left.
Twelve Moments In The Dead Of Summer1. The sunlight glistens on her wet skin as she's walking towards the beach. He has never seen anything so beautiful in his life and even if the words seem to dry up in his throat, he knows what he is going to do next.
2. It hasn't rained for months now so it only takes a small spark from the cigarette to set the undergrowth on fire. On the first sign of fire they panic and run, never to look back but to remember years later, in nightmares, the crazy old man who lived in the shack nearby and was never seen since.
3. They lay together on the grass, watching the sun slowly go down behind the treeline. He takes her hand, old, wrinkled and frail into his, and whispers: "I would give up everything I have for one more summer like this". She responds: "Darling, you already did that years ago". They burst into giggles, just like the one he was supposed to take her dancing for the first time and got lost on the way, and it seems that all these years haven't changed anything at all.
4. The thorn
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