I'm sorry if my smile isn't always wide or goofy
Or if I look at you too much for you to comprehend
I'm sorry if I'm sad while near you
But it's because my jealousy has no end

You talk to all girls
The same way you talk to me
You squat down to our size
Almost falling on your knees

You stick out your tongue
You tickle our sides
You ruffle our hair
It brings tears to my eyes

I want you so bad
But can never be yours
I wish I was happy
Not wanting more

But you make my heart pound
You make me weak in the knees
You make me blush
I wish-oh please

I wish for some strength
To confess how I feel
I wish for your eyes to see me
So I know that you're real

You're so imperfect I love it
I'd have you no other way
But you cannot be mine
No; not today

She cried and she bawled
She lied and she crawled
Quickly through the fire
Thinking it wouldn't burn at all

Poppy fields of Flanders, conceal a million tragedies.
A hundred thousand fallen soldiers, tainted the grass crimson.
And so they fell.
Not much grass left.
Mainly churned up mud.
Destroyed by the feet of the soldiers' in passing.
They are passing out forever.
Some were mere boys who pledged allegiance to the heavy crown.
And so they fell,almost children,
Without objections.
Marched as boys.
Buried as heroes.
An almighty salute.
(C) Livvi

Jack *****  the darkness.
Penetrated it.
Jack o lanterns smiling.
On this night of fright.
Hide indoors.
Unless of course.
You're knocking on the neighbours doors.
Candy catching smiles.
Pressure to thrill.
No killing.
Just thrilling.
The night of all hallows eve .
Enjoy.
Be safe.
Go out to play.
Darkest night
Edging towards all souls day.
(c)Livvi

She made me dance on broken glass
waiting for the coup de grâce
she ran away and kissed a toad,
whilst I got stuck on a yellow brick road
the lion and the tin man started to cry
the scarecrow supped on a bottle of rye
click my heels and reach for the moon
watch her choke on a silver spoon.

Death is not only a word
But also a sentence

We are the ones who paint with words
thoughts and feelings soaring like birds,
horrors, dreams and things of the night
indelibly scribed for your delight

furrowed brows are forced to think
in pastel shades and jet black ink
scrawled in haste in an hour of need
raw nerves scraped until they bleed,

there is no cure or magic pill
we lost our freedom to the quill  
slicing our souls down to the bone
to leave a legacy carved in stone.