Only Seventeen, But She Walks The Streets So Mean

Buy her
Tonight,
She's still shining

Like lightning,
Oh like
Lightning

Glorified .

My heart was porous.
Engorged in black, suffocating
Collapsing in on itself
Piece by piece, he tore me apart
Until I remained simply a fragile framework
Of what I once was.

But slowly, surely, you came
Filling the gaps, one by one
With not blood, with not flesh
For I needn't what I last had.
You gave me something more - newfound
Light, shining with the valour of a thousand splendid suns.

Your caramel eyes, that warm smile
That all too soon, became a necessity.
Artwork of my dreams, paintings of my reality
Slowly, the picturesque fantasy became real to me.
You're all I have, you're all I need,
For to my future, only your heart leads.

Disillusionment

"It's coming down to nothing more than apathy.
I'd rather run the other way than stay and see
The smoke, and who's still standing when it clears."

But disregard your feelings for your past, your present,
Mold false hopes and dreams into realities of your future.

"Eight seconds left in overtime, she's on your mind..."

A dead end to your efforts, lose sight of the truth.
A fork in the road to your goals, your aspirations

Open your heart, let the memories bleed
For they but hold you back, and weigh you down indeed

Skrillex

Well it's awfully true when they say that curiosity killed the cat. Subliminally perhaps the knowledge is always there. What feels concrete, in my palm tangible, may slip out just as easily as I once came to grasp it. Never establish reality as truth. Never dismiss truth as fiction. Perhaps we always know the difference, somehow, some way. As well, however, one thing proves true. Reality is not concrete, not tangible. It is difficult to grasp. It is laced with lies, truths, deception, smiles masking tears, and tears masking smiles. Never be curious towards that which you should not be, because the future envelops tragedies and woes which would frankly have been better off hidden under the rubble of yesterday. Rubble that's been weighed down by each tick of the clock furiously chizzling away the time we have left in this seemingly-godforsaken place.

Ice

It's as if it's missing.
The most vital piece, of my most vital organ
Beating in its damned, disjointed rhythm

Drumming off beat, but music to your ears-
You would know that it's wrong.
So help me God, you would know that it's wrong.