death can be found in love
and life can be found in anger
scars can be beautiful
showing we survived
and aren't there anymore
freedom can be found when lost
through solitude wisdom can grow
but growth has no meaning alone
so love as you live
for death cares not of such things
fret not for scars, do not be scared
when lost, know you are found
these are the meanings I have learned

the memory of my melody
a reminder of lost things
haunted by the years

The grass fields shimmer in the wind
As the sky is gaunt and gray
I pray, I pray, I pray
That this sadness goes away

Do what your head tells you to
Before it tells you not to.

She danced on the rooftops with the moon to her back
Proud and shining on her elegant ballet
Whisps of fog entwined her shadowed figure
As she glided backwards with her final bourree, into the night
A secluded heart now followed her everglow light

rabbits from mad hats
smoking mirrors slights of hand
pulling curtains back

Unequivocal uninspiration usurping my greater judgement
That perhaps this paper might be better left unwritten
For foolish folly fails to grow my intrepid soul
Daggered demons drift across sleepless eyes
Hunting in the night for any light
Meant to be burnt but smothered on sight
Red rivers release droplets into panten lungs
Organs of oddity never needed but to draw dead air
This is thus the safety of my mind and heart, departed and slain

We write out secrets in our art
so the dark can tear us apart
every lie, every lust, every slight
Just so we can sleep at night

Valleys, rivers, mountains wide
To great upends and depths of trenches which divide

No cloud nor star
Nor sun nor gleam
Or misting fog at last be seen

Neath rock and root
Or oceans wide
Or frozen tundra stretched outside

No warming feeling felt
Abides
Twixt valley, river, and mountainous wide

No distance compares or parts our minds
When you are standing here beside

Rest your face in these hands of mine
No grasp or claspe necessary
As steaming whisps escape your peppermint lips
I realize this
That you aren't even close to a distant memory, no
You are just as clay
A white lipped cup of herbal tea
Intoxicating and soothing
Dulcetly flooding all of these cold November senses in me

How heavy can a heart grow in one's chest,
When the weight is measured not in volume but in resigned grief?

I had forgotten
The smell of my own
Yet as it squished through my toes
It when rate to my nose

I thought to myself
Oh ya, I'm one of those