language

  • Death of a Broken Heart

                                            spirit,
    The thought of you lifts my 
                                                                y     .           .           .
                                                     a
                                            w
                                     a
    It lifts me so high I fly
    But then I f
                     a
                        l
                          l
                    for you bringing m
                                               e
                           back down to earth,
    But you weren't there to catch m
                                                   e
                               So I hit the ground,
                             And broke my  .   .   .  h . e . a . r . t .
     

  • Her Broken Heart

    A ripped shell holds the inevitable
    The lost vow thought unbreakable
    Her swollen core cracking slowly
    Freeing the feelings she thought so lowly

  • One more try

    I yearn for death in the small of my back,

    Every crack in my bones ache for the pain. 

    I crave the feeling of a blade vertically down my wrist 

    The slipping of consciousness.

  • Think

    People think
    Before the morning dawn
    They seem to think I'm dumb
    I don't need to prove
    That I'm smart