discord and strife stood before me
with hollow cheeks, ivory skin, and luminous hair
a knife in her hand
a pen in the other
pick your poison she told me; stir some trouble
from her piercing gaze and wicked smirk I knew
she offered me, a pawn for her games, a decision
however, I had no power to chose at all
so I reached my hand, feeling the weight of my choice
the chaos
and the destruction I would cause.

Each night since he left
I trace your words on my skin
I memorize the curve of the L
And try to imagine what you would say

But the truth is I haven’t the slightest clue
You never worried about men, so it seemed.
I wish you had taught me how.

Hit me with the knives you sharpened with your rage,
Hit me with the words you wished you released out of the cage,
Hit me with the floods coming out of your eyes, the undesirable wreckage,
Hit me with the revenage you composed, to stay for your soul, a heritage,
Hit me with the dreams you wrote on that vintage page,
Hit me with the memories you drowned down the rivage.

Hit me with the passion I made you fantasize,
Hit me with the pain you can't verbalize,
Hit me with the struggle I gave as an advice,
Hit me with the sorrows that won't let you rise,
Hit me with the filth unleashed of my vice,
Hit me with the agony I'd enjoy to poetise,
Hit me with the sadness you should idolise,
Hit me with the deception that I got to, on you, idealise.

Hit me with the thoughts you ignited in your head,
Hit me with the lies I loved you with instead,
Hit me with the cries that to your end, have led.
Hit me with the words I never dared to let being said.
Hit me with the regret that you'll never get,
Hit me with the anger, you, because of me, have met.
Hit me with the ages of misery, I've for you set.

Meadows of loving emotion
Jostle us kindly away
From cascades of swollen ire
That guide our desires astray.

you are a poet but do you know the most profound truth of your words and what they hide from you?
the voice within your soul pours a waterfall of emotions translated into words,
search deeper and deeper,
try and understand your pain and fright,
the unknown of your mind.

Hey over there, with the wild unruly hair.
Do you ever wonder why this world is so very unfair?
Is it's clearness so foggy and it's foundation soggy?
Does your hope make you groggy when the ground feels so boggy?

Listen here, my sweet and fragile dear.
Even a bird of hollow bones can sense that aura of fear.
But it is okay, for this is why you are so sane.
A world that was fair would just ruin this game.

Have you ever felt good, when you conquered a challenge?
When everyone else seemed to have found their allonge?
Yet you had to go further to leap over the hurdle.
And when you leaped out they all soon turned into turtles.

It's a game my dear, but a game of what's there.
When did the game master ever say that this game was fair?
Now put on your shoes, and make this your campaign.
And you will never ever look at the game the same.