Turn up the radio so I can't see.
Hide this fragmented mess from the tired world.
Too many unfinished masterpieces pushed under the covers,
my personal monsters come back to haunt me.
Welcome to this daily hell,
it stretches on, grey sidewalks into foreverness.
No endings, just a thousand starts,
an abysmal chasm collapsing and reforming in a poet's mind.
Hypocritical smiles brush my sugary lips,
sweetened by the purity of oh so good white lies.
Peek from behind my satin mask to see a world.
Breath now sticks in honey-filled lungs, chokingly sweet.
No more confessions left to write,
a thousand tears ripped from charcoal eyes.
Five, four, three, two, one.
Is it cliche to say "the end"?
"You're like a black cat with a black backpack
full of fireworks and you're gonna burn the city down
right now, (woah woah)"
~Blackcat by Mayday Parade
**Wow, this actually speaks volumes of how i feel right now. I love how it's chaotic and all over the place and makes like no sense..*rolls eyes***
