Somewhere in here, there's a songI'm staring at the screen wondering where my words are.They're here somewhere - or at least they once were.I wonder if someone could save me from this.Or if I was doomed to fall from the beginning.
Blood TiesThere was once a little girl, the most loved little girl in all existence. One day, someone killed her. And everyone was sad. Everyone was devastated. 'But how could she die,' they all wondered. She was their heart, their soul, and without her, how could they continue?But they did. Because they had to. And they kept on loving her. Until the day they all died.
What they feelLove was falling from the skylike shattered strays of glass
Story Time for the Wicked ThingsYou forget that her life is lost and too much blood has fallenAngels die but love lives onAnd a fairytale always ends
Frustration in Her VoiceShe's held her tongue for so longShe's forgotten what to sayWhen the words seem readyThey get lost along the wayAnd when the letters start to make a soundIt's been long gone, the end of the day
Witch-EyesDeath follows her Witch-Eyes everywhereYet so does life, in her presence of serenityHer eyes, for knowledge, leave your soul curious - yet bareSo that her voice could take away all inner acerbity
Because I love youIf you were the sun, then I'd be the sky So that I may show just how brilliant you areIf you were the clouds, then I'd be the wind So that I could show you off to the worldIf you were the moon, then I'd be the darkness So that you could shine beyond meIf you were the stars, then I'd be the galaxy So that you may have a home to call your own
Kill the Puppeti wonder if she knowsknows?hahahif she does...i'll bet she goes CRAZYhopefully she'll be stronghahahcrazy...if she snaps...we'll have to kill herwe'll have to try to save herto save ourselvesto save hergiggle
The Season's PriceThe winter's frostIs the voice of the lostAnd your life is the only costThe flora of springAs the cruel nymphs singYour soul is what you must bringThe summer engulfs with heatAn impossible featNo angel a sinner will meetThe final leaf of fallThe migration is the last callTo die at the seasonal ball
CultistOne day, we’ll worship rustand marvel how it claimedthe world of industrious metal,leaving nothing but slowingreddening struts, half-heartedangles reaching outward.We’ll dive into the wreckslooking for half-sparking wondersthat, when properly restored, gleaminto sputtering song or splittingpictures of different worldsand the faces of old Gods.
Who will perform the autopsy?There is a forest painted inscorching red, fire bloomingbeneath its dirt-caked skin,smoke skimming leavesas plumes of flame snickerbehind the tail of a doe.Coals coating tree-trunks,hungry for life, it devoursthe same way they ravaged herwhen she said 'no'.Bright eyes morph into murkinessas the inferno marches.When rust washed downher throat, she did not scream,only begged for them to stop.They do.Beneath the ash,they find her body.
Wasted FleshFlesh, flesh,Such wasted flesh...This able-bodied meat.Defiled by drugs and impurities.A mind born with clarity,Yet so blatantly abused.No harm did you suffer;Other than harm self inflicted.Disregarding the hopeless gazes,Of those who were born without.No good, no good;This I cannot abide...I shall take this flesh from you,And it shall be tended and made anew.A gift to those who are deserving,Of the very gifts you cast aside...Now then, my dear,Do stop your screaming.It will only be painful,Until your heart stops beating.- Word of Chen, 1/6/2016
Is It Love?If I hugged you,would you never let go?If I kissed you,would you cherish that moment?If I reached for your hand,would you take mine gently?If I needed a shoulder,would you let me cry on yours?If I needed to talk,would you really listen?If I needed to scream,would you do it with me?If I needed to go,would you come with me?If I fell for you,would you catch me?or just let me hit the pavement?
I think of youAs suns set afar and mountains flameAnd eagles, turning, turn to fireAsh cold, alone I lieAnd think of you.
RecipeYou said you like your girlsa little psychoticwith a dash of instability,so I showed you my recipewith shaky, bloody hands.Clothes were discardedand you broke my rib cage openand shoved a needle full of cyanidei n m y l u n g s.(Your insanity was my life supportand I lived off of your insidious words.)And just as I made friendswith the Grim Reaper,you abandoned meand said I was too fucked up for you.How ironic is itthat my creatorwas terrified of me?.........................He said he liked his girlsa little morbidwith a dash of insanityso I cut my chest openand showed him my p o i s o n - f i l l e d l u n g s.He grabbed my barely-beating heart,caressed my sunken cheeksand said, "This is all I care about."
White Ballet ShoesEveryone watchShe dances in the meadowsSweet, white ballet shoes