Words so tragic,Letters of magic,She spinsA web so wellShe would putAny writer to shame,Or elicit a nodOf prideFrom her kind,And force a clapFrom brooding eyes,And a thumbs upFrom the wonder keeper.Her brain is a marvelOf thoughts insaneAnd she chugs itLike an engine,Her heart beats through
Serving you a pieceOf my heartIn a silver platter,Scrummy,And yummy,Filled with promisesOf luscious kissesAnd sweet nothings.You devour itWith your long fingers,And your tongueClicks and clacksIn consent,Which I takeFor love,But wait!Do I hear something?Oh, that’s just a burp,I am so glad you are full,Now your turnTo
I could be making senseOr talking trash,But behind the maskYou choose not to see,It will always be me.Even when I am sloshedOr hopelessly sober,A part of meWould want to be With you,And why does it matterHow many glasses I devour,I never leave my bodyI am
Fractured sleep,Another dream,I try to sleep again,But every time I do,I try so hard,I never wake up to your face.My cup overflows with waterFrom your eyes,Yet I feel something missingFrom my life.Ask him who dies todayWhat it is to live,And what time really meansWhen there
Everything we were,Everything we are,And who we become,Isn’t our hand to play.What is so terribly wrongWith us being who we are?Why do we try to becomeSomeone we are not?We are the same species,We are the same rock,What’s there to be ashamed of our gifts?It must
This one is a perfect paragon of an impromptu creation. I was at my friend’s house when his sister walked in with a small broken toy of a baby. She swayed it in front of us humming an eerie music, when I realized, “Hey we
I am on a boat with no oars, at the mercy of the flow. It is a surefire fall ahead as a steep and deadly fall awaits my death. I know my fate and have come to accept it. Death has never scared me anyway.
You wouldn’t know, Would you? You don’t ever read me, Do you? And then talk about How you understand me The way no one does, But she would read me Like what’s going on, And then she would know What’s going in My heart and
What’s wrong if I spill myself out? I die tomorrow, don’t you know? Maybe you have all the time in the world, Maybe I am running out, And you have no idea how, But each passing breath is a goodbye From this cold world. And
Two men were fighting, So I put a ring around them, And bet on them As people paid To see who would win – I made a fortune.