I have a friend, she's mostly made of pain.
Her eyes pour poems of acidic rain.
She splatter-paints stories of curtains and lampshades,
Glasses and speakers
She tears out scenes from people's dreams,
She loves them, she hates them with psychotic screams.
She believes to perceive is to suffer.
Believing and dreaming and perceiving, we'll suffer.
Walking, crawling towards inner time,
She sings us tunes of our state of mind.
She doubts true love with toxic words,
And breaks our hearts with jagged birds.
I know a girl, she has veins of pain.
Her mouth spills poems of the deadly insane.
She splatter-paints stories of glasses and speakers,
Sad hearts and cheap clocks
View User's Journal
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The best people are MAD
Hearts have often bled from words that have gone unsaid
By the time you finished reading this, you’ll realize that you’ve wasted five seconds of your life
Hearts have often bled from words that have gone unsaid
By the time you finished reading this, you’ll realize that you’ve wasted five seconds of your life