Melancholia exists beneath my breathing breast, like a fluttering bird in a thornbush.
Wings matted with thy thickened liquid death, the telltale sign of matters unadressed. A nest. In a residence of conscience and sentiment, the utmost epitome of a glance downward. Upon this perch shall ponder his tenement, a pensive disaster of intent. The blackened heavy burden of existence weighs, murky dim light that doth shine through, whom else should find themselves counting the days.
A continuous strain of delays.
Whom else,
but you?
Purple doves,
and pretty pink candy drops,
pouring black rain,
and pictures overlooking building tops.
thats what my mind is made of;
all of the things I love.
Bright blue unicorns,
and hot pink dragons,
a cemetery where everyone mourns;
bodies piled high in wagons.
thats what my mind is made of;
omens from above.
Neon green grass,
and transparent trees,
a place where all pass,
but none truely see.
Thats what my mind is made of;
that and purple doves.
-SED- July.14th.2006
As you walk down the street
in the dark, save the stars
you step on glass, with bare feet
as you travel down the road
in the dark, save the stars
bloody footprints show your load
and your scars
and your scars
See the houses all ablaze
plumes of black, in the sky
you are lost in the haze
see the bodys all in piles
plumes of black, in the sky
see the smoke go on for miles
Then the mountains you do find
within the valley, held within
and you fall with steps behind
in the garden you rejoice
in the valley, held within
and for once you hear your voice
free of Gin
free of Gin.
-SED- Oct.21.2008
I have a Soul.
I have a Heart.
I have a Conscious,
and I am Smart.
I have a kindness.
I can be mean.
I can be messy.
but I tend to be clean.
I am imperfect.
I make mistakes.
I have goals.
and I have what it takes.
I have morals.
I have pride.
I make decisions.
when I am applied.
I can be sad.
I can be crappy
I can be mad
But I am happy.
I am me.
That is all I want to be.