Looking at this beautiful face
Seeing the pain through your eyes...
My heart goes on.
It still beats...
I'm crying,
and I'm dieing...
It's not what I'm made to do,
I don't need to watch the skies...
Your eyes feel crooked branches
Stabbing at your veins...
This, this pen, it is not real
And this, this paper I scarcely feel...
I love you more than love itself
I can't breath...
I saw a ghost today
I was walking down the hall...
I take my empty canvas
And I wash my ready brush...
See me smile and nod like nothing is wrong
Hear me quietly tell him to hush...
Voices of creeping ,screaming ,running
Looking for the calm of early field and hiding...
Reflection is an enigmatic concept;
a 15 by 30 mirror frames my figure...