Numb Happiness

Beautiful,
A silver horn wrapped in dust,
And flecks of blood.

A mane of silver waves,
Seeping crimson.

Me,
And this,
Thing.

Stare ahead,
Eyes,
Never leaving,
The stars.

Numb Happiness,
So long,
It has been since,
I have felt this,
That it hurts.

Spoken

You have your words,
As self-centered as they are,
Spewing beliefs,
As water.

At least you can speak,
Past lips.

Even if,
You are the victim,
In your own fiction.

At least you can spreak,
Past lips.

On a stage,
You will guide,
Expecting us to abide.

At least you can speak,
Past lips.

What about me,
And my selfish lies,
Will I enjoy the view as everyone dies.

How do I speak,
Past broken lips.

This philosophy,
That I own,
Wishes to be throned.

But how do I peak,
Past broken lips.

Into a room,
You lead me,
Letting the others be.

How do I speak,
Past broken lips.

Sitting at a table,
The chairs soften,
Into something like a coffin.

How do I speak,
Past broken lips.

With a crooked grin,
You speak words,
Like chess boards.

Teach me to speak,
Past broken lips.

I can speak,
And I now stand,
With this band.

Tainted Angel

As I lie awake,
In the dark sky,
I hear your song of madness,
Your screaming voice pierces the night.

I am your angel,
More tainted than the sky,
I watch you,
Hoping to let you know that you are not alone,
That I care,
But...
You continue to sing,
Your voice filled with sorrow,
A deep darkness surounding you,
The years pass.

Women wwho have wronged you,
Men who have spat at your feet,
I wish to make them suffer as much as you have.

I have shed these white wings and now stand before you,
My back scarred,
And I tell you,
My love in words,
But you walk away,
Hearing this before.

At your funeral,
I walk to your coffin,
Polished redwood shining against my last feather,
Long ago turned black and dyed red with blood.

I was too late,
And as I walk to my death,
I sing my song,
Hoping that in the afterlife,
I can finally save you.

Life's Laws

The way of life,
The endless trickle of insanity,
Just enough to keep us wondering,
If this all there is to it.

I wonder if the world was properly compensated,
If I was cheated out of something I needed.

Are people benifiting from my pain,
And if they are,
Do they deserve it?

For I would happily die,
If it meant I could be someone's saviour.

Crumbling World

Filthy air,
Putrid gasses.

Fathers can be found at bars,
Mothers at street corners,
Children sold into basements.

Ruble crushes together under my feet,
Shadows loom before me,
And I enter,
Curtains are pushed aside in my welcoming,
Polished wood covered in dust,
An empty stage,
A broken microphone.

The crowd cheers,
Covered in rags,
Smudged faces grin.

We are not weak,
We will not wait for a saviour,
We will save ourselves.

With these arms,
We will protect,
And build homes fit for children.

No More

Underestimated,
Sorted,
Smirked at.

Kicked around,
No more,
No more will I allow it.

For I have walked the roads of hell,
As a ghost,
And woke,
To see that my life,
Is worse than hell.

I am still here,
Silent,
Unseen,
Yet watched.

Still bound,
In a cage,
Made of my old,
Rusting,
Chains.

I will not be underestimated again,
However,
I will happily watch from the sidelines,
A ghost roaming the endless streets.

A Cancer

A seductive thing,
Power is,
Creating grief,
This constricting feeling,
Sending tremors down my spine.

Cold fingertips crawl over me,
Caresing my body.

I think I have contracted,
An illness,
For love,
An addiction.

Seeking power,
I have cornered a cancer,
Deep withen my flesh,
A cavity.

It breathes my life,
Slithering in my core,
Yet,
With it,
Power.

Morton's Fork

Where,
Where shall I go,
All eyes are on me,
Looking to see which fire I will fuel,
What path will I walk.

Trembling,
A cold sweat,
I can't break away this time,
I have to choose.

Morton's Fork.

Can't breathe,
Miles underwater,
Pressure on my chest,
Hearing only mumbles.

Twitching,
My hand,
The only appearence giving me away.

I back away,
Running,
Not to defy,
Or offend.

To get out of the spotlight.

Ablaze to Dust

Enchanting,
Brilliant colors,
Ablaze,
Timbers fall,
Adding to my merriment,
Where is the feast?

Surly such triumph deserves a party.

The end of another home,
A prison in disguise.

When the flames cease,
And this place of residence is dust,
I will dance upon the ashes,
With glee,
In my little yellow dress.

Golden Bones

The cruel laughter,
Bursts from my chest.

Under your filthy rags,
That hang from you,
And your grime covered body,
Shaking.

Under that hideous,
Personality.

Why?

Are your bones,
Made of gold.

An illusion,
Probably,
Maybe,
Real?

A Story

My story,
The story of my life,
Almost as dark as night,
Filled with sorrows.

I have thought of ending it,
With no happy endings,
Never a happy thought.

I lay down,
Unable to sleep,
Screaming voices in my ears,
Music no longer sustainable,
No longer my savior.

I wished for a happy ending,
I got another painful chapter.

I am screaming,
Does no one hear me,
Does no one see my pain,
My tears.

I pray the ending is near,
I can't write another chapter.

Savior,
You see me crying and pick me up,
I no longer stand on my own,
For next to me,
On me,
In the flesh,
Is blood,
My savior.

I can now go on,
At least for a bit longer,
I am going to try for another happy ending.

Gone

Empty stages,
Vacant chairs,
Gone.

Everyone,
Gone,
Alone,
I'm alone,
No,
No,
No.

This can't be,
Not now,
Why now?

I gasp in a sharp breath,
As I wake,
I look at the crumbling walls,
And stained fllor,
With relief.

Just another nightmare.

Dark River

Kids,
In a park,
Tumble around,
Joy radiating from their souls.

Each laugh,
Is like,
Concrete down my throut,
And into my heart,
Refusing,
To let the pain free.

Mothers,
Couples,
They look upon the children with caring eyes.

The pain,
Is a cage,
A mass of drifting tears.

My own,
Dark river,
Seems to go on forever.

Favorite Colors

People,
Write songs about love,
Someone,
They would give up their life for.

I wish for someone,
To look,
At me,
See me,
And understand my silence.

I want to be held,
Protected,
By that 'true love'.

To be told,
That I,
Am beautiful.

I need to know,
That you think,
My scars,
Are not just my past and present,
Making me who I am,
But that silver,
And pink,
Are your favorite colors.

Flower

A Flower
No right,
Or wrong,
Just this tiny piece,
Of life,
In our hands.

One day,
It will wilt away,
But for now,
It is here,
In all it's glory,
This little piece of beauty.