I need to be me.I need to be sad without your tears drowning my head.I need to be happy without your nails clawing at every inch of my body.But most of all,I need to learn how to be me without you.
i'm slightly broken, crushed, more void then human. liquid fills the cracks, smoke blurres the lines, music shake the pieces.bathroom tiles hazy, light flickering to the beat of my heart, and i swear i see him. behind me with the red eyes and a killing pin between his lips. cracked hands running through my hair, smiling at me like every part of his shattered soul were lying in my hands.bathroom tiles still hazy, light still flickering, heart still beating.he has my soul, too
i'm lostno light no dark just voidit's greyMy body is all dried up and used, too tired to move too tired to think too tired to speakMy arms are weak and my legs are shakingIt's depressionHow do you explain to anyone that your not sick nor sad, just weak?Night turns to day and day turns to night,over and over againWhen your body is dying but your mind is alive, thats hardBut when your body is alive and your mind is dying? Thats torture
The night is come, but not too soon;And sinking silently,All silently, the little moonDrops down behind the sky.There is no light in earth or heavenBut the cold light of stars;And the first watch of night is givenTo the red planet Mars.Is it the tender star of love?The star of love and dreams?O no! from that blue tent above,A hero's armor gleams.And earnest thoughts within me rise,When I behold afar,Suspended in the evening skies,
Youth of delight! come hitherAnd see the opening morn,Image of Truth new-born.Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason,Dark disputes and artful teazing.Folly is an endless maze;Tangled roots perplex her ways;How many have fallen there!They stumble all night over bones of the dead;And feel--they know not what but care;And wish to lead others, when they should be led.
"Hope" is the thing with feathers --That perches in the soul --And sings the tune without the words --And never stops -- at all --And sweetest -- in the Gale -- is heard --And sore must be the storm --That could abash the little BirdThat kept so many warm --I've heard it in the chillest land --And on the strangest Sea --Yet, never, in Extremity,It asked a crumb -- of Me.