I walk by moonlight
with fear of the coming daylight...

I want brush you lips
i want to taste your skin...

This has gone to far
i wont put up with this for ever...

I wont play your game
inside i am still the same...

I wrote this on 02/02/07
seventy-five days until summer...

His voice
accenting dirty words...

Falling
free falling...

Do you even remember me?
when you look what do you see...

She sat and cried
her face in her hands...

The shining light upon their faces
the way they feel as if in their places...

Walking through the city
watching lives turn to pity...

When the cuts form on my wrists
and the blood spills from my lips...