Poetic-Dreamer• Show poetry

If I had a gun, I'd pump your ethics full of lead.
If I believed in meat, I'd eat a plateful of our dead.
There's merit in construction when it's done with our own hands,
There's beauty in destruction, a resurrection, another chance.
There's a you and I in Union, but just an I in my beliefs,
There's a crashing plane with a banner that reads
"Everyone's Naive"

she doesn't know whats right &
she doesn't know whats wrong she
only knows the pain that comes
from waiting for him so long &
she doesn't count the teardrops
that she's cried while he's away
cause she knows deep down in her
heart he'll be back again someday

As She Laid On The Bathroom Floor,
Lit With Candles Alone,
And Music In The Backround.
She Cried.
She Let It Go.
She Gave Up.
And She Realized,
She Loved Him.

I’m a hopeless romantic. I believe in
wishing on stars ;; soul mates and
love that never ends. But yet, sometimes
I feel like the only single person alive.
I feel so alone. No matter what I try to do,
I’m left in solitude. Maybe I try too hard.
Maybe I really am hopeless

my memory I wrote you down in ink
I never wanted to erase your story
Even with the tragedy it brings

Maybe we should develop a crayola
bomb as our next secret weapon. A
happiness weapon, a beauty bomb and
every time a crisis developed, we would
launch one. It would explode high in the
air, explode softly and send thousands,
millions, of little parachutes into the air,
floating down to earth, boxes of crayolas
and we wouldn't go cheap, either not
little boxes of eight but boxes of sixty-
four, with the sharpener built right in.
With silver and gold and copper, magenta
and peach and lime, amber and umber and
all the rest and people would smile and get
a little funny look on their faces and
cover the world with imagination."

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the unmailed letters and the lonely Decembers. The children ask, "does it ever go away?" they’re asking about heartache and you know better than to lie so you answer truthfully and you say "no, it doesn’t. It doesn’t go away." one day you’re jumping in puddles and the next thing you know 30 years have passed and you’re telling your kids to walk around them. Everyone is taught to look both ways before crossing the street and to talk quietly in the library, but no one ever learns anything that matters, like how to keep breathing when your heart breaks in half."

"You say there is no perfect place,
I say I know this is true.
I'm just learning how to smile,
That's not easy to do.
Yes I know there is no finish line,
I know this never ends.
I'm just learning how to fall,
And get back up again.
I know there's nothing perfect,
I know there's nothing new.
We are just learning how to live together
Me and you.
You know I live for the day...
When you say 'Baby let's just run away...'"
-everclear, learning to smile

Bruises scraped into memories on leather bound pages tell the tormented tales of forgotten fairy tales'


He wore that cowboy hat to cover up his horns.
Sweet-talkin' forked tongue haf a temptin' charm.
Before I turned around, that girl was gone.
All I can say is: "Bartender, pour me somethin' strong."

Here's to the past, they can kiss my glass.
I hope she's happy with him.
Here's to the girl, who wrecked my world,
That angel who did me in.
I think the devil drives a Coupe de Ville.
I watched 'em drive away over the hill,
Not against her will, an' I've got time to kill,
Down in Brokenheartsville.

It was long on chrome, sittin' in the lot.
An' fire engine red, that thing was hot.
He revved it up, she waved goodbye.
Well, love's gone to hell and so have I.

Here's to the past, they can kiss my glass.
I hope she's happy with him.
Here's to the girl, who wrecked my world,
That angel who did me in.
I think the devil drives a Coupe de Ville.
I watched 'em drive away over the hill,
Not against her will, an' I've got time to kill,
Down in Brokenheartsville.

Here's to the past, they can kiss my glass.
I hope she's happy with him.
Here's to the girl, who wrecked my world,
That angel who did me in.
I think the devil drives a Coupe de Ville.
I watched 'em drive away over the hill,
Not against her will, an' I've got time to kill,
Down in Brokenheartsville.