Am I to young for true love
to know what internal beauty is...

Can you hear it whispering
in the darkness of the night...

A yearning to grieve
for a past kept...

Look at a rose
red as blood...

Who do you think you were
when you spit in her face...

How hard it is to cry
without wiping away the tears...

How I hate the darkness
for the lies it gives...

Why cant one grasp
what perfect is...

Tired of living life
like a drone...