I'd felt all her fear
Just when I thought
I have a seriously Sukey life
The most exciting; as the bus pulls away
Angels wings, drag across the gravel,
Marked as a symbol of killing a darkened sky;
Paint it black
To face thy self in agonizing pain
The blood the rains down like
Frozen roses that has no tainted red, but
A solemn oath to the darkness
A coffin lay
A kiss
A mark
A Love bite
Oh how disheartened thy dead must feel
Sealed underground so as to rot elsewhere
How sad it must feel, do they think thy is repulsive?
A corpse to be ugly
When it is the same person it was, and is
How sad my heart feels;
Art thou in pain as blood drips?
Can it not salute its pain, to the giver
A flower is always picked when it has bloomed,
It withers,
How sad,
Nothing I see can fix what's been so badly broken
Sorrow is but a youth of fixture
Pictures that paint stories fill thy mind,
Retching away blue-and filling in a sketch of purple
Darkness lay, not far ahead
What I've done,
Can it not be noticed?
This pain I feel, how horrid
Am I not worth to you as he is to her?
Why does my life have any less value then yours?
I rot this life, I wash it away,
And then, there was a blindingly beautiful funeral procession of butterflies...
Sing a song of sixpence
A pocket full of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie
When the pie was opened
The birds began to sing
Was not that a dainty dish
To set before the king?
Does thou fear the future that lay before him
Embedded in his skin eternally, like a bruise on the abused child
Who walks your street, dizzy and sickly
It dies
How thou must feel,
By locking thyself up in thou room?
You have lost contact with life,
The child whom you loved has faded
And you could not have saved her
For her protruding funeral signaled a death
Was not the Mother poisoned by a bloody mind?
A bite cannot stand to bite
For it pierces, and fades
And in what we see, we fear
And in what we fear, we see
How silent the coffin is,
From inside the beautiful linen, softly pressed against the corpse,
How must it feel?
Flying so high in the presence of the mighty?
Can it be freed? Saved?
How dark the path to hell is.
So help it, the butterfly that is lost
Maybe, it'll have a chance
As long as it has wings to fly...
