Artist By ChoiceWho paints that wrist of Yours? i know it's not just You You're simply another artist Portraying it on Your canvas of skin i, too am a painter of sorts Banker by trade, artist my choice So tell me, Dear, tell me soft: Who paints that wrist of Yours? Who makes You fill Your canvas?Artist By Choice
Doorstep FlowersSlain with your best rose As if a heart could kill me You lie here with me...Doorstep Flowers
"No one will find out," I scream aloud, my dear girl Little have I fought...
Sickness drives me home Shaking head and mourning sighs My shame drives me back
Now Who Am I?Gently carressing your pale white skin Your soft green eyes darting back and forth This is it, this is it, this is itNow Who Am I?
Diehard knives striking heart of hearts Strobing red splashing ravid streams That was it, that was it, it is done
Around your neck I sweat my tears Whispered goodbyes taking their tolls Here it is, here it is, here it is
Ears ringing sirens, craving silence Smoke shot eyes to blinking, winking hell There it goes, there it goes, it is gone
Who am I? It depends on who you ask.
Your Cicatrix: My SensationI'm just a scar on your would-be perfect arm I'm just a smear below your eye, and above your cheek I have to learn to let it go I need to go to sleep This ever-present burning gratitude Melts my unfortunate goodbyes away Sadly, this is self-absorbed I know; it's self-centered I'm just a scar on your would-be perfect arm But I'll be there forever, make sure of that, my dear I'll make sure of that I'll make sure I'll never amount to the royalty you're used to But you'll know for a fact before I'm finished: I don't stop until I get what I need I'll never loYour Cicatrix: My Sensation
wow!
Longing
--
--
everyone run and hide the creepers are comming out to play!
"if life were a movie
u'd b the right guy
and i'd b the the best friend
that u'd fall in love with in the end"
the scars remind me of the worst
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