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Description
You ever notice how... boring, life is?
Water drips. And water drops.
Like ants, clinging to gravity, we are the sinners of the world.
we are the outcasts. The loners. The antisocial. Homicidal.
We are the living. And we are the dead.
Raising hell from it's still waters in the deep...

Dawn, waits for no one.
We bury the hatchet, deep within our souls.
Time waits.
But, time had a lover once.
She was cold. With an icy gaze that froze you, the moment you looked.
Such, is the beautiful, I suppose...

But what then, is real beauty?
Our nakedness?
The comforts we share?
The life we wished we didn't have to live?
A dusted book, taken off the shelf?

Beauty is only skin deep...

Yes, indeed.
The skin.
We write on it who we are.
The razor blade is thick. And the blood pours.
Only to remind us of our loneliness.
The lines that can't be crossed.

For she was a girl, in love with another.
And he was a boy, who dreamed erotic dreams of his best friend..
Time, would never let them be.

We are the broken blades.
And we are the skeletons.
In closets so deep, you'll find our hearts in the darkest part.
But then, my heart is my own..
Isn't it?

I would hope so..
Indeed..

We are made to think outside the box.
But we are not made, to love.
Heavens no.

To love, and devote yourself to one other..
Such a thing... Fir such a thing, even angels would cry..

You are alone.
No one will ever love you.
No one will accept you.
No one will help you...

It is these words that the blade reminds us of.
And it is these words that have made many a man, or boy, or child, girl or woman, fall to their deaths.
Because that was the only way out!
..

Indeed..
We are the drifted rain.
And we are the dirt among the corpse, in the casket..

We are rotten.
Flesh that turns to bone..

nothing left...

~End~

Description
You ever notice how... boring, life is?
Water drips. And water drops.
Like ants, clinging to gravity, we are the sinners of the world.
we are the outcasts. The loners. The antisocial. Homicidal.
We are the living. And we are the dead.
Raising hell from it's still waters in the deep...

Dawn, waits for no one.
We bury the hatchet, deep within our souls.
Time waits.
But, time had a lover once.
She was cold. With an icy gaze that froze you, the moment you looked.
Such, is the beautiful, I suppose...

But what then, is real beauty?
Our nakedness?
The comforts we share?
The life we wished we didn't have to live?
A dusted book, taken off the shelf?

Beauty is only skin deep...

Yes, indeed.
The skin.
We write on it who we are.
The razor blade is thick. And the blood pours.
Only to remind us of our loneliness.
The lines that can't be crossed.

For she was a girl, in love with another.
And he was a boy, who dreamed erotic dreams of his best friend..
Time, would never let them be.

We are the broken blades.
And we are the skeletons.
In closets so deep, you'll find our hearts in the darkest part.
But then, my heart is my own..
Isn't it?

I would hope so..
Indeed..

We are made to think outside the box.
But we are not made, to love.
Heavens no.

To love, and devote yourself to one other..
Such a thing... Fir such a thing, even angels would cry..

You are alone.
No one will ever love you.
No one will accept you.
No one will help you...

It is these words that the blade reminds us of.
And it is these words that have made many a man, or boy, or child, girl or woman, fall to their deaths.
Because that was the only way out!
..

Indeed..
We are the drifted rain.
And we are the dirt among the corpse, in the casket..

We are rotten.
Flesh that turns to bone..

nothing left...

~End~