Perfection Perfection.Is it really that much to you?I guess it is, since little parts of you are dying for it.Isn't perfection just a shadow, casted by those who are blind for reason and immune to satisfaction?Are we born into this world to chase after a dream that we could never possibly reach?You hold on so tight. Can't open up your hands and let it slip away, It's a part of you.I hate perfection. I can't understand it. Perfection is emptiness.Though admiration is everything to me, but jealousy and loneliness will come with it. So, perfection isn't perfect. Perfection is the cold, empty shell that you're about to become.Can't you open
Hate - poem I hate it when this happensI hate the way I feelI hate it when the sun shinesand when nothing you say is realI hate it when you feel badI like to comfort youThat's why I love it when you feel sad,so I have a reason toI hate to be among peopleI hate to know that I careI hate to be here for you,when you are never thereI hate to write a poem,and not just a little bitIt's like I'm making a puzzle,with pieces that never fitI hate the fact that I can't hate youI hate to walk on my ownI hate YOU but without you,I'll end up being alone...
How I feel I feel like cryingI feel like eating my skinI feel like screamingI feel like tearing my head apartI feel like bleedingI feel like falling into the darkI feel like pulling out my heartI feel like runningI feel like smashing my headI feel like cuttingI feel like scratchingI feel like bitingI feel like shooting out my brainsI feel like vomitingI feel like chokingI feel like pulling out my hairI feel like suffocatingI feel like burning myselfI feel like blaming youI feel like hating everyoneI feel like hating myselfI feel like biting off my tongueI feel like drinking bloodI feel like ripping your fles
Artist Paint me orange, paint me yellowPaint me colors you find quite mellowPaint me white or paint me blackDraw some crosses on my backTake the ruffles, take the laceI'm your art, I'm your disgracePaint me anger, paint me shameYou take the credit and I'll take the blameWrite a poem, write a storyTake your time, make your gloryPaint your kiss upon my faceLive, love, humiliatePaint me blue and pink and greenPaint me the color you think of mePaint me orange, paint me yellowPaint me colors you find quite mellowPaint me white or paint me redIt doesn't matter, I'm already dead.
A poem for an old friend I hope you have time to listen,'cause there’s something I need to sayThis isn’t an obligation,you’re free to turn awaySo hate me, disappoint mebut please do not avoid meWe need to face the fact that you threw me awayI have kept my distanceI've let the time erase youuntill there was nothing leftbut a person I once knewI have shut the eyesthat once searched for perfection'till all that's left for me to seewas my own reflectionI even hid away my feelingsand forgot my memoriesbut the feelings of loneliness I once hadare still not dead to meI tried to be one of the loudest voiceswhile drinking
Sta.sh
