Painting the roses red
when they're already a lovely shade of white...

Cry yourself a puddle,
fill your glass with these tears...

I'm scared to put it in a poem
'cause that means that it is true...

I understand completely,
why you can't love me for me...

Oh, let's dance a dance,
the only kind you seem to like...

I'm sure there are words to write,
just as I am sure there are hearts that bleed...

The Weather Man's an optimist,
he hides the umbrella well...

Thirty six months of icicles
dripping down the edge of the earth...

To my phat rodent,
from your fuzzy wuzzy bear...

What ifs and maybes
to paint the sky green...

I write these bullets out for you;
frustration is my gun...

Nothing left with which to heal
all her fairy dust is gone...