Me? Do you really want to know?
A dark past, Anguish...

Is it really poetry?
Or is it mere babbling...

I stand here, in this place
every single morning...

She used to be the girl
Hidden behind her acne...

Balancing on something called hope
I can almost see the light ahead...

Remember her face
When you put her down...

The flowers I planted
At the house I used to live...

Following me always
Hunting me down, even in darkness...

Slap on the lipgloss,
tighten the shirts...

Her and I
Were under the willow tree...

Show me the heart
that you have kept ever so carefully...

You spin me in your arms
until we both feel sick...