In a broken hourglass
with sand falling like rain,
I committed myself to hell;
and only then
in that moment I knew my soul was condemned
did I finally belive.
Not in some hopeless desire
that to hold him in my heart
would save myself from retribution.
Because I felt in my bones
in the time of the sin
my blood boiling,
my heart breaking
and divinity coming in.
I am a masochist in more ways the one
I bet if I could I would burn myself with the sun.
My broken soul is filled with inward rage
that cuts me in actions I will always engage.
my worst impulses, how do I resist them?
First they will briefly save me, then they condemn,
if this was a lover, one which I held in my heart,
I would have prevented this madness before it could start.
But I have no love for me
No way out of this labyrinth I can see.
So I think I’ll continue in the 5th circle of hell
Doing the only thing I could possible excel,
But inside my failing brain, there’s only hate
a sicking posion, that tells me its my fate.
The drugs and hollow sex are my only cure
for a second away from my tragic lore,
maybe there is another medicine to take away my pain,
one that won’t rot itself inside my brain.
But I am a masochist in more ways than one,
and I fear soon I will die in the sun.
Nature babe it comes to soon
especially for me and you;
songs won’t play inside you’re head
so, listen to the radio instead.
Tell me you love me,
lie to my rotten mind,
all else of me is tainted
untill you walked in here tonight.
Boy, you’re too hard to look at.
My dress to white, to tight
hear to the whispers all around
then stab me wherever you like.
Baby, call me poison,
call me your destruction
I’m not a pretty flower or a lost cloud
innocence ran away long ago.
Now its time for you to take
the false prophet of purity,
we’re just to liars
only to our ugly selves.
Stop calling me kid
don’t mention anyone else,
you are nothing special
just a name I won’t forget.
I have wasted too much time
chasing fairy tales and lies
now I see, you’re the best
that I’m ever going to find.
The chaos is coming;
my green ring across your back
a daisy growing in my mind.
What festers in you’re brain?
Kissing is an overrated thrill
pain means nothing at all
blood is for fools
bur it finds itself onto my legs
You looked at me one last time
alost girl who wasted too much time.
There we were in the back of your car
with wonderwall playing at a local bar;
No one can save me now.
Love is for the idle dreamers,
they covet it like a pirate,
alone at the sea for years
searching for the most golden treasure in all of the seven seas.
But me you see, I’m different.
What I want is far from the fairytales I was raised on,
the ones that inhabited my veins and brain for years on end.
It’s not something for those epic love songs,
or love stories in orgasmic movies that make loveless teenagers girls swoon.
I want a lover to drink with, in the moments before the broken hour,
someone to dance with in the bottom of midnight,
I don’t need to feel like the only one,
to receive flowers at my door the very next day,
to belong to some grand idea of sweeping beauty and ideals of a time gone by.
I met a boy, in a dusk of delightful desire,
and come across me was a feeling of peace
when is eyes placed themselves on my fault-full face,
but I won’t kiss him with devotion,
I won’t hold him close to my chest and speak in magnificent epigrams,
all I desire in my born broken heart
is for him never to close enough,
to see the girl crying,
to see the child still holding on to roses left at her door
and take me dancing.
Oh no, I have died again.
My body is breaking down
inside the hallow ground
I can feel the soil,
clogging up my lungs
and turning my heart to gold.
I don’t know who killed me;
He was a coward, I imagine.
Who stabbed me in the back
then sent my mind below
Dying is a crime
i’m well versed in.
I fell down and down
and over and over.
I hadn’t yet chose which way to die
not like before.
I found a bottle filled
like a rattle toy,
I had as a child
it emptied in minutes,
Then He revived me and
like Cain I killed him.
My hands now moving,
my blood is boiling,
my fingers print clawing up,
wasting a life.
Our synapses are hopeful,
pulling me into the air.
I rose up,
saw the trees
covered in blood
And walked away.
Don’t you worry, I will die again.
But that time better
More beautiful and
Fall into the water and hopefully
the lonely moon won’t bring me back
Someone once cried into the dying night.
For candles and wet witches to light
or wait for the wildfires to catch
and save their life
or kill them first.
They would burn in a white fire,
like that of a broken girl’s eyes
waiting for her heart
to be lit up like a cigarette.
Wishes and dreams betrayed them,
the fire took over
but somewhere out in the lost forest
someone else cried out,
over her stolen innocence
and forgotten life,
so, the dying night
became day instead.
You spend all your days
writing your stolen stoic siliques
on your throne made from white roses;
which should be mine.
Dream you dreams of a better world,
where the fire in the core
of your broken world,
dies out, yet we’re still alive.
The earth is at your feet,
following your stupid rules
of hope and good.
Where altruism follows through
and evil was lost and gone.
I forgot a long time ago,
I was the Grimm antagonist.
The master deceiver,
the treacherous villain.
I’m the evil witch,
who breaks the worlds hearts
with her whore magic,
concocted from dead flowers
and broken desires.