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Like a flower in a bong.

Love's longed the irony for, so long.

Because it's sick of being so uptight

And that's why I'm writing this fuckload of shite.

Because eating petals,

And tasting metals;

Is the perfect representation of falling for whores.

This is how we re-create metaphors.

Whoever knew pain could discriminate.

That I though I could only hallucinate! (Against you)

Visions of pain in your fucked up gorgeous face.

This is how we lose the race.

I never said this would be pleasant.

What if the future is only the same as the present.

Because like the sweetest sickest rose;

This is the life we went and chose.

The wrong path

And now we only feed passions wrath.

How can this be our life?

In hoe and dismay and endeavors and, strife.

COMMENTS

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theblackroselady
20:38 Jul 07 2010

i like this one

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x1Luke6x
20:43 Jul 07 2010

*hope

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As my paint starts to run

And my colors begin to fade.

All the beauty is done

And I am one with the shade.



This is how it was so close to becoming.

Until I laid my eyes upon you,

Again I felt my heartbeat.. drumming (pounding)

Darling, your eyes may just pull me through.



Your touch not matched by that of angel (It burns)

Your soul even purer so (Contradictory to myself)

Oh and how your voice does lull

Never, will I let you go..



You're beautiful elegance

My saving grace

My mind speaks perfect eloquence

As I kiss your sweet delightful face..

COMMENTS

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theblackroselady
20:39 Jul 07 2010

i like that. its sweet

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Why was I made this way

Who made me this way

what even is "this way"

No hope of making anyone stay..



The only reason you are in my league

Is because by me, you are intrigued

But once I show you you'll run a mile

Why oh why am I on trial?

When a fear yet unknown

Begins to embed and fester

A malice from just skin and bone

Mortalised confuser, schizophrenic jester



With everyday occurrence is tediousness.

Yet still bewildering mysteries?

In insecure atrociousness

Unexplained by histories (failures)

When a love do divine and pure

Causes the greatest suffering

One begins to think love is just hatred's pretty allure

What is sadness to you, but a task while your music is buffering?



When both ends of a hot coal are felt

One must sympathize with a previously overcome strife

so hard to not on one's knees be knelt

thus, one picks up a knife.



Like facing pre-conquered demons

in the face of the one you love

away from the grief they may fly, cruel sweet dove



Left in pain.

Ridden in unfair gloom.

On her back, a stain.

Surely this be not, my doom?

COMMENTS

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theblackroselady
20:41 Jul 07 2010

this one is really good too

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