RelevanceShe is beauty and she is the beast,She is Belle and she is Adam.She is Adam and she is Eve,She is the eve and she is the day.She is passion and she is fear,She is fear and she is faith.She is the faith and she is treachery. She is treachery and she is fidelity.Infidelity isn't necessarily relevant,Unless it has a purpose.Treachery isn't either,If you had no control in your behavior.Faith is thoroughly necessary;It proves to you your innocence.Fear is also important,Because in reminds you to be humble.And passion is the only wayTo keep your head on straight.Without the day,we'd have no sun,But I'd die without the reliefBrought on by the Eve.Adam lived so we may live,And with his life came my Curse.Belle brought music,Ringing loud and clear.The beast reminded usTo be human all the time,And the beauty tells us allWhat to believe we (and she)Should have inside.
And I Am SorryMistake after mistake I madelike a psychopath, a maniac,like the woman I amin my mind. I ruined my chances,and now deal with the ruins,floating debrisin my mind.Blunder after blunder I madelike a sociopath, a lunatic,like the girl I aminside.I destroyed my shot,and now live with the wreckage,the rubblein my brain.I cannot denyat the time, it felt right.It felt correct, and like thingswould work out.But now I see,after numerous aberrations and errors,you are no longer mine.And I am sorry.
Phantom LimbI feel an itch,a tickle, a stirring,from a leg that I don't have.I feel a tremble,a pain, a rumble,From a non-existent place.I have no legs.No arms, feet.No hands with whichTo grab holdOf the tangible,The existing, the legitimate.They have been cut,Removed, and dismemberedAway from my lifeless, pulsing eyes.The eyes that move yet,Flicker, and focus,On the realAnd the imperfect.Yet the tremble, the pain,The non-existent rumbleTears ruthlessly at my eyes.It makes me seeThe depths of thatWhich isn't there.But it's thereIn my mind:The Phantom LimbWhich I cannot leaveBehind.The Phanto
Aligned IntentionsMy intentions are goodWhen compared to the bad-The stupid, unwilled, andUnfocused.Previously unaligned,the good aligns with the badAgainst the stupid, unwilled,andUnfocused.My arguments now strayAnd light and dark combine to grayAs I struggle to addSome color.The blue is my life,The blue is my love,But one can not make blueUsing only one color - gray.
The DisguiseStill here I sitAlone at nightAnd think of allOur time now spent.What could I have doneTo prevent this mess?To leave the placeUnharmed?I do not knowWhat could have been doneOr what I canDo now,But to this dayI lay awakeAnd ponder my pastAnd future.I plan my mask-My great disguise-To ensure that nobodyWill know.For if they knowThe things I knowThey'll make their ownDisguise.They'll hide from meAnd my darkened dreamsBehind a tanClay mask.
The Vaccine.He was like the drugsHer father abused;Each touch was anotherInjection.The injections didn'tCure.In fact, they made herDeathly sick.Each movement was aStruggle,Each breath was aStrife.Surrounded by trouble,Her body completely changed.Her arms became smallAnd weak.In a matter of weeks,Her belly grew larger,But not the distance betweenHer hand and The Rope.After months of struggleAnd strife and conflict,The weight flowed backTo her arms.It abandoned her belly,And as her arms gained their value,Her loss becameClearer than day.The injection causedThe greatest loss in the worldTo infectThe lonely girl,And still, today,She stands by her windowAnd ponders the ethicsIn the vaccine.
Never Killed a SoulDuring this cheery, happy time,Nutcrackers dance around the rooms,snowmen pose in the yard,And reindeer paw atop shingled, snow-covered roots.People are happy asSugarplums dance in their heads,And the sweet aroma of apple pieAnd ginger bread disperses through the room.In the midst of all the joy,A murderer hides in the snow.He hides in the fireplaceBehind the stockings, in the fire.He beckons me towards the fireAnd the stockings and warmth,Lips stretched wide into a sickeningYet beautiful murderer's grin.The murderer loves his family,Loves his sister and his books.But he also loves one more thingWhich is atrocious yet appealing.The murderer is a paradox;For his aberrations are ones I adore.He is the murder that would never,Ever hurt a fly.He is my murderer,And amazes me each day;He's the only one I've ever knownTo end a life without killing a soul.
Reasons to SmileBefore the lightThat's in this place,I sat in roomsOf darkness.My skin was red,Covered in cutsAnd scrapes both young andOld.But, then, my scarsFlew off a cliffAnd crashed intoThe rocks.Before, I hadMarks young and old;Now, most I haveNo more.Now, my wristsAre coated withCream colored scars that yet haveAged.With each glance I giveTo each of these streaks,A smile falls uponMy lips.