Her voice was painfully beautiful, drenched in the tears she never shed.

Those dreams hijacked your peaceful state of mind, slamming you at 850 rounds per minute, an assault riffle crafted with your name emblazoned on its body.

But those dreams meant nothing, they only meant you were unfit to attempt reality.

We can destroy what we have writen, but you can not unwrite it.

The pain you feel in your heart,
of the little tiny cracks,
the burning of the hot tears
scorching down your cheeks,
simply is a nice reminder
that your heart is beating,
you're still alive

Lost, alone, confused
Always the one making the sacrifices.
~fallen angel

I have buried myself in oil
consumed by what I consume

You penetrate me to the darkest of my exterior...

I would lose my mind, if only I knew where it is.

Dark
Tears
Fake
Smile
Knife
Razor
Lines
Red
Heart
Love
Shatter
Scars...

Whay do these words all have in common?

- Mom, do rich people die like us?
- Yes, they do, sweetie. But not like us.