Actions Speak Louder Than Words The shackles binding my feet accept my pleas of mercy Yet they act not upon them. The shackles remain locked Along with the shattered pieces of my chest. Because words mean nothing when faced with opportunity.
OceansThe ocean's waves rock back and forth,Reflecting the skies in its waters.Most find such rocking comforting and relaxingWhile drinking sangria in the sun's light.But all I think when I see the rolling wavesIs your face while you were rocking over me.The movement reminds me of the movements you usedWhen you gave me life and stole it from me at once.
TravelingWe are all traveling,But not all vacationing.Some are travelingThrough their own places of mind,Swinging from state to state,And wondering from city to city.Some are ponderingWhat direction their life will take.Will the end up in Texas?Or in someone else's arms?The traveling never stops,Never ceases, and never ends.We spend our whole lives traveling,But only once reach our final destination.
VictimsThough I feel that IAm the only victim in this,It is pleasing to knowI am not.You are just as muchA victim as I,Though we are soDifferent in category.I was forced to beThe victim I am,Even though IMade it easy.You, however,Chose your fate.And because of this,You are an idiot!You have forcedSuch a hideous beastUpon your memoriesJust to force meTo forfeit mine.
BildungsromanComing of ageIs not what it seems.It's quite less exciting,And far more scarring.At four, you believeThat nothing will be betterThan living in a castleWith twenty cats, a butler,And (of course) your best friend.You will sit at your throneBy the time you turn twenty.Because twenty is oldAnd so far very far away!You'll certainly be rich and happy.At ten, you're positiveYou know all there is to know.Certainly, you won't own a castle(You're already halfway to twenty!)Half of your dreamsHave sailed away,And the reality sets in.Okay, fine! No castle, you suppose.You'll settle for a mansion instead.As long as you can bring your butler, cats,And (of course) your best friend.Into the teen yearsYou gallop like a bull,And are stunned again and again.No mansion? No, ma'am!But you can still have your butler?Of course.If you still want him.Because, in your teen years,You'll likely face my fate.And have your soul rippedFrom the meeting of your thighs.Fearful
PagesI wish things hadn'tEnded for us;It bothers me to haveSo many pages tornFrom my journal...
Dark PoetryI write dark poetryBecause I know not howTo write in a wayTo please me and you.With each word my pen scrawls,A bit of darkness escapes.Soon, I'm sure, When the dark's all gone,There won't be anything left...
KeysWhen you think of keys,You don't even think of me.But I am the keysThat are most important to you.My keys are clear-cut(Which you seem to love),And everything I sayIs totally black and white.You know what to expectWhen you press the middle of me.You know my voiceWill surely ring out. See?As you touch more of meI vibrate under your fingers,Ecstatic to singFor you.And you don't shy awayFrom the vibrato of my body,Because I love to sing with youAnd you love to sing with me.
WhipYou dethrone me Using your whip As your only shrine And only glimmer of hope. Wet with your spit, It flies through the air, And, like a single flute's B flat, Pierces the heart of My Ear. Though you are quite Successful in my removal, Should you wish to throne yourself, You will fail. Because you lack hope so, And such lacking will betray you! And your whip will soon turn To entirely remove your ear!(not that you frequently used it anyway)