

Listen To Me I'm not aloneBright darkness breaks through this tempting Light. Shadows disappear into slaughtering cries. Weeping tries to disengage this lonely distant memory, places hung in between frightful kisses, I am no other. Someone takes my soul out loud, gives it hope to crush in doubt. I never forgive desperate pain, lost in a wonderland of mistrust causing chaos. This is my Sanctuary. Give up, stole away. Take to your breathless daze, I love the dream you create in me. My beauty is in your laughter. I need no other.Listen To Me I'm not alone


Simple little starry storiesTears ran down my face, as my blood races. The people in the crowds are all staring down at me. They expected more. Why do you bother with me? If I told you why, if I fell down crying, you would laugh. For some reason you make me sick. And I tired of being sick. For you asked me to cry, you asked me to scream, you asked me lie. So like is what I do, I do it well. Then you feel ashamed for you can not see through my lies and it bothers you completely.Simple little starry stories
In the mirror , we all see, wicked, wicked wickedness at its best form.
You hear a scream but its in your head, for the reflection is the one you dread. Its you. The gho


Your are my sweet deathStories tell lies, so we humbly ask for the truth, and our dire needs seep, because the lies keep coming and confusion allows no one else sanctuary. They laughed from the words in my bleeding brain, amused by the struggle. On a more quiet note, in a smaller tone, ask nothing of it and thats all youll receive. In a tempting state we ask for our weakness back. People crowded alone, in streets of mystery and misery listen softly and hear the humble of voices in your head, then you notice so slowly that their mouths are sewn shut. A laugh breaks loose, killing the silence, its yours. No one cared, although they seem to fare wellYour are my sweet death
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She thinks now, because she cannot be sure, but that plastic bag must have sailed away, forgotten, with the fuel leak that trailed a dark rainbow behind the whir of the big boats engine.
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She thinks now, because she cannot be sure, but that plastic bag must have sailed away, forgotten, with the fuel leak that trailed a dark rainbow behind the whir of the big boats engine.
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Good things come to those who wait~
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I have completed my Portfolio.
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