Time To SmileStare at the blade,
Wish to let go,
To bad happiness hasn’t stayed,
Time to let blood flow.
But now things can change,
You do not have to cry,
Yes this may seem very strange,
Instead of goodbye why not hi.
It's time to let go without a doubt,
Drop the blade and hear it hit the ground,
Catch your tears and turn them inside out,
Somewhere neither will be found.
Four Words Three WishesAgony is
three four words,
writen on two blue eyes,
tumbling out of one mouth and
tripping over one tounge
to land on strong fingers
that throw them into a careless screen,
where they shatters eyes
and force replies from ten fingers.
I don't love you.
three four words,
written on one girl's heart
and falling over with every beat
of a broken number,
numbers that forget of
four years of waiting
for him to keep a promise made in haste
as one left another one.
I still love you.
Love Makes You HumanI am tired.
Tired of knowing my presence is harming people,
Because they try to help me,
When they should help themselves.
I'm tired of being human.
I'm tired of loving people,
Becuase I feel their pains as if it were my own,
And I know that I can't help them,
No matter how hard I try.
But I can't and don't want to stop loving them.
But this is the price of love isn't it,
It makes you human.
Could You Loan Me A HugIs there any space for rent
Inside your arms.
Or perhaps in your heart?
I don't want much,
I just want to borrow a hug.
I'll lend it all back to you,
Just right now I need a little loan of the comfort
That can be found in one's arms.
The only painful thing this shall buy,
Is the cost of leaving,
When you let me go.
From Darkness Comes ForthNightmares from the dark of sleep
And light of dream
Have come to visit me.
They sing their haunted tears
And I catch
The terrible words.
They spin webs of thought
And pain and hate
Into my muddled images.
Every night a restless mind
And sleepless night
Every day a tired me.
She'll Paint You A LifeShe wears a mask of tears to hide the blood she cries.
But the pain in her eyes is nothing next to the scars on her soul.
The carvings on her arm speak of a life her lips do not say.
But if you know what to look for you can see behind the mask to read the blood.
And if you know what to listen for you can hear the echo behind her heart.
A whisper "Help me," beating beneath the pain of "I'm fine."
But none of this will she let you know if you do not see.
If you do not show her that you know how to read voices from eyes.
And that you will hold her soul like a broken laugh in your palm.
If you open her doors she'll paint you a picture in red and hope you will return the
colour to her bleak light.
For though many see red as death it is also blood and life and flush of breath.
Healer but not Healed Part 11 "Zonea," I say quietly, testing it out. My newfound bitterness sweeps in again, like the tide, washing up the broken bit of shell and abandoned refuse that I am. I am nothing but debris on a wave I can't control.
And I don't care.
I stand again, my back ridged, my detirmination new, now that I finally know where to go and what to do with my life. I turn to Zonea. "Will you help me?"
"With?" She tilts her head to the side. "What, you want to go kill my - our - parents?" She looks at me confused, having read my mind but being unable to tell what I'm feeling.
"They would gladly have killed me. The ruined me, my life."
"Revenge isn't right, you know that don't you? It will just eat you up and make you feel sick."
"She's right. Common Iyla, this isn't like you, just let it go, okay? We do