You like the picture
that hangs on...

The thought of so much hate enveloping me;
even my own faulty dreams disowning me...

Its insanity to think
That I could speak...

If I could explain to you
This enthralled ecstasy...

Tip of my tongue
Dying and Dry...

First, I must make It clear what has taken place...
"I am Sorry...

To tell a story is a glorious feat,
but living it is far better...

*an old poem in my old, dead style*
Just to let you know...

I think there is something
deep inside of me...

Oh the ache
Within my soul...

I see the red
The red of your grin...

Fiercely
Fiercely...