Ryne

Ebon hair, draped over eyes
They speak of green with gray replies
White skin soft like sacred dew
I clasp my hands, pray for you

My head is filled
I feel the urge
I need to chase it
away from here
I don't want this dream
from my memory purged

Crimson ribbons make supple lips
I close my eyes, imagine a kiss
Up under the shirt, I feel some skin
I open my mind to let you in

My head is filled
with rage and wants
I have this dream
that lingers here
I wish I could rip away what I have
"you want to be me," it taunts

For one year I did not know
Longing for differences and growth
I fear the death of stale routine
He teases me on TV screen

My head is filled
hateful imaginations
I need to chase it
with slippery grasp
I don't want this dream
jealous masturbation

Though head is filled with happy sounds
I was unaware I hate me right now
Happiness in others, it occurs in a whim
I feel empty; I want to be just like him.