Thursday, January 24, 2013
Beatdown.
Barns burning, bullies and beatdowns, the things you have done to me. Scars tell a story but you are not there, fresh wounds don’t appear, in my mind they just tear. Crazy, forgotten, the thoughts I can’t bear. I left you, you left me, nude with no care.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Lonesome Hearts.
Screw the ones with the lonesome hearts because manipulation is at its finest during dark. We talk and we pray, converse and persuade, but the darkness reclaims the light.
She lives in a place where the darkness can’t reach, so far in a fairytale even I cannot beat. A fairytale somewhere too far for us to find, she closes her eyes, sees a dark paradise. Lonesome, so lonely, heart left so sad, a wonderland mistaken for a crude old man.
“The King, he reigns,” all the followers say, “The King, he is grand, we have to obey.”
Thought to be kindness, the King holds his own. Vivacious? No, his heart left oh so alone. Just as the lady is stuck in her land, the King holds his crown, sinking into quicksand.
Lonesome hearts are misleading, they really want love, but go to find it in ways that ache and disrupt. Hate to the fate that misleads you this way, but it is your darkness, not mine, that leaves bitter tastes.
So screw the ones with lonesome hearts, because manipulation is its finest at dark. Manipulate minds, manipulate me, my dear, my dear, oh how I shall flee. Create a place, a grand fairytale, with kings and queens and mad hatters, I will. To drink tea all day, mistake madness for wits, shrink and grow tall, play croquet with misfits. Battles and lovers, viridity unclaimed, I create fairytales of beliefs, not manipulation games.
Leave lonesome hearts alone in the dark because darling, they are not my thing. So we’ll sit and we’ll pout, let’s cry tears and self doubt, all for your little childish craves.
She lives in a place where the darkness can’t reach, so far in a fairytale even I cannot beat. A fairytale somewhere too far for us to find, she closes her eyes, sees a dark paradise. Lonesome, so lonely, heart left so sad, a wonderland mistaken for a crude old man.
“The King, he reigns,” all the followers say, “The King, he is grand, we have to obey.”
Thought to be kindness, the King holds his own. Vivacious? No, his heart left oh so alone. Just as the lady is stuck in her land, the King holds his crown, sinking into quicksand.
Lonesome hearts are misleading, they really want love, but go to find it in ways that ache and disrupt. Hate to the fate that misleads you this way, but it is your darkness, not mine, that leaves bitter tastes.
So screw the ones with lonesome hearts, because manipulation is its finest at dark. Manipulate minds, manipulate me, my dear, my dear, oh how I shall flee. Create a place, a grand fairytale, with kings and queens and mad hatters, I will. To drink tea all day, mistake madness for wits, shrink and grow tall, play croquet with misfits. Battles and lovers, viridity unclaimed, I create fairytales of beliefs, not manipulation games.
Leave lonesome hearts alone in the dark because darling, they are not my thing. So we’ll sit and we’ll pout, let’s cry tears and self doubt, all for your little childish craves.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Chalk Outline.
Jane Doe number one, Jane Doe number two. Anonymous was all she wanted to be. Dead to the world, lost through love, cold and blue, lack of blood running through. Craving the need to be unknown, dying in her mind to not end up like you; you’re just like me.
Worlds collide in her mind, but no face can be placed on who was left in the chalk outline. Keep returning to the scene of the crime, the battles of the two fight, they lie. Crossed and beaten, cursed and cut, shattered and forgotten, they cannot rhyme. Two as one, or maybe one as two, a constant battle waiting for reign over Jane Doe’s mind. Concept of anonymity, lost in transit, unknown doesn’t exist, the world certainly bans it. Left behind a chalk outline of who she used to be, but the rain washed it away, almost immediately.
Jane Doe is me, Jane Doe is you. Fight and win or fight and lose, being anonymous is up to you.
Worlds collide in her mind, but no face can be placed on who was left in the chalk outline. Keep returning to the scene of the crime, the battles of the two fight, they lie. Crossed and beaten, cursed and cut, shattered and forgotten, they cannot rhyme. Two as one, or maybe one as two, a constant battle waiting for reign over Jane Doe’s mind. Concept of anonymity, lost in transit, unknown doesn’t exist, the world certainly bans it. Left behind a chalk outline of who she used to be, but the rain washed it away, almost immediately.
Jane Doe is me, Jane Doe is you. Fight and win or fight and lose, being anonymous is up to you.
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