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You are my song, the noise to contrast
with the silence that terrifies me.
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Wearing colors of sun and sky,
the stars rained without fear—
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Well, to you, I am money.
To you, I am entertainment.
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Calmly I taste the morning ambrosia
Floating lazily upon the air
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Your gaze kills me with the heartache of simple poetry; Your eyes kiss mine with a million stutters of prose;
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i hope the moonlight holds us here
forever like skeletons, dancing--
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have you ever looked into
the evening sky of early fall just before
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of fiery breeze i exhale, living organs smolder--
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the book sheltered the leaf--
the stream would have cast it away.
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the spotlight is a high.
the stage is an escape.
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kill me, because i am darkness.
composed of nothing but bright black.
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rays of light collide with my daydream--
my heart, my blood, my angel, my soul,
your voice sings me to health.
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my stomach is full of regret.
fluttering over and over again.
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[My tears only exist behind my eyes.] ~ Somehow I find a way to breathe at night.
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Rushing water flies into the Sun.
A tree falls safely against his Lover.
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As I fell into her eyes,
at once I felt as though
I had lost every feeling
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captivated by the beauty of my sorrow--
a lovely crystal complete with colorful winds.
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hey mirror. you coward.
sometimes i wish upon your smile
and hope that beauty is on the inside.
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i am
- mortal!
- desperate!
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wires constrict my trembling movement!
oh how i long to be in your arms.
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goodbye, my love, my valkyrie.
[my armor of battle.]
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i constantly press the sword through my heart.
i painted X's over my eyes and hoped they'd find me dead.
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and i heard the sound
FLYING through the air!
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to the boy who thinks he can have whatever he wants,
and does not think about the girl(s) he hurts:
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oh! that each ounce of my voice gracefully light,
each syllable from my tongue so sweetly amorous.
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i play in traffic, among the greatest morbid static.
where the cars are scissors,
and they cut me up like i'm an angel.
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swallow this confused dagger, a drifting lullaby.
this heartache i tear to kill me inside.
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hazel bottle. ready to explode with the stress, tension, and just the lack of feeling anything anymore.
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please don't cry...please don't cry...
but the late spring weather is so bittersweet.
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piercing, your glance shows hollow disappointment.
and i suddenly feel sorry for myself
as the frustration falls across my cheekbone.
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youthful and free, yet so fragile!
i must wait to run till i can crawl.
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lachrymose, i carve the horrible blade into this.
sparks my tarantism in light of all this.
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