THouGHTS

Tragedy and comedy, all we are lonely.
Her eyes closed, sleeping so gorgeously.
I can only wathc her die,
slowly choking with her own lies.
And beneath that pretty soft skin
hides a thousand wounds that dailly bleeds.
Scary whispers at the middle of the night.
Creepy fairies giving up that unwinnable fight.
Smiles never meant to be alive
trying to bring me back to life.
What’s gnawing my soul? I’ll let you know,
but I must say that you won’t understand, no one does.
A bed made of razors is where I sleep,
and a morbid, dark torture chamber is where I kill.
Gorgeously murdered, they have suffered a lot,
hopes awfully forgotten, left behind just to rot.​