A loner's prayer."I am somehow permanent;I cannot be erased."I say this when I'm lonely;Even though it's not the case.I get so scared sometimes; Afraid my life's a waste."I am somehow permanent;I cannot be erased."
Liar, Liar, You've Already Turned To Ashesmake it all, fucking rewindbefore I force it too - - - -Have the past erode the hearts ofevery boy I've ever kissed - - -I'm shutting off the nightcause liars catch firein morning's candle& when the days turn like pages,my salvation will soon take holdof my debilitated heart& rip out the blackness I'vebeen painting across my presence.because i'll have no futurewith you if my memories keepme prisoner in their minds.
closets are no place for secretslet us repent now, my love,the homeless mandown the street told methat the end was near and you know,one of these days,it will be.and i can't stand the thought of usbeing vanquishedin the anguish of fires of adamnedcirclein helllike our mothers and their mothersand their mothers said.we didn't have any time toarrive --only just enough to knowthat the end is only nearout of spiteand i know it isn't fair, hush now,i know it isn't fair.remember when i told youthat my finger tips were paintedeach dissected colorof the rainbowand my parents didn't find ittill they walked in on mebetween her legs?she died that day, remember?and the worst part was nothearing her screams when my father beather for being a cheaterand defying nature as if she wasthe only one responsiblefor the balance,but the part where i didn't leavewhen she did.darling, i didn't meet my endbecause i still had to findyour rainbow-tattooed finger tipstapping table twoin a deserted coffee
Keeper of the Clock TowerI am the keeper of the clock; the guardian of time. I am the music of passing ages and long forgotten worlds.Through the fleeting moments of time, she has wept over the keys of her eternal ivories, becoming the harmonious spells of her encumbrance. Many tears have been shed for the ticking hands of eternity as she sits alone; cursed to be alone for evermore. She rests on her immovable throne, singing the woeful song of her fate. Time is her puppet; her unending burden. Till the end, she is charged with its protection. Her sightless eyes see all; the past, present and future. She is as she is and has been; living in the tower.I am the keeper of the clock; the guardian of time. I am the music of passing ages and long forgotten worlds.
WORDLESS WORDSThe writer attempts to writeDescribing the indescribableLimiting the limitlessNaming the namelessA thousand lines of inkWritten a thousand waysCannot describe love The abstract emptinessThe beauty of colourThe sorrow of lonelinessBurn every bookDestroy every lineAn alphabet of ashesMeaningless is knowledgeWithout experienceWorthless are wordsWithout practiceReading what is writtenIn ignorance remainThe subtle realityBeyond all language
BROKENWe are broken people,who have lost their way.Countless moments,scattered into the winds of sorrow.Jagged woundsin place of hearts.We are broken people.Pushing away those we love,before they are cut upon our shattered faith.Our pride tattered and torn,for all the world to see.Our tears have dried,they've stained our souls.For we...are broken people.by Jeff Cross
MasqueradeTwo telling eyes are all which dare to speak,For lips often offer the truths others seek-Life is simple when you are but a faceBehind a shielding mask of ivory lace;The true identity is in the detailWoven with secrets, pains, and fails.You've hidden yourself behind this veil,Each word you breathe another tale;You made up a name and story pretend,Believing your lies again and again.You dance in your heels, gliding with the song,Telling yourself that this is not wrong;You've cloaked yourself in ballroom clothes,Determined to not let your personality showLest it shine brighter or dimmer than that of another-As you know it will for you are unlike any other.You deem what you do a masquerade,A game that everyone else seems to play;You find no harm or need to ask why,Not realizing that many are just as shy.What is the purpose of a masked disguiseWhen you do not know what is a lieAnd what is honest, good, and true,For what if everyone else pretends like you?If each line
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