BipolarCookie

I'm ugly and I'm perfect and no one has ever dared to throw acid at me I'm ugly and I'm cute compared to the stars I'm as pretty as I can be I have my pretty scars a knife is a weapon, a tool, and a toy I change like fluid water a femme fatale, a doll, mistaken for a boy The shape of stars looked at with distance they may shine like gold zoom in with truth and you'll see the flames that within spheres mold All things beautiful are beautiful when melted with dreams and desire Is it beauty, or is it false? when broken into particles, with no formal attire You see me as a rose and a rose is but a flower blending with the rest i

Old night has died the one to sleep New day was born no tears to weep From dark to light no hollow hearts When death gives birth it's where it starts For light shall bring new virgin soil And dry the seas of sorrow's coil One day, one life no painful lie Yet those was born Must also die The sun goes down the bloodred sky Old night is back We all shall cry

I read your lips, but not your mind. Well, at least not that much. Energy surrounding everything here, without the sinful touch. You're so silent and buried well, behind the velvet curtain. Pondering and wondering, are these feelings certain? I keep falling back to you, in realms of dark confusion. Like evening tides, I wander ashore, seeking your love conclusion.

You ask why, and so do I. But no one cares about other people's fears. We just live, and then let die. The very last minutes, we cry and cry and cry. As if you just lost your life at every cost. Forgetting that you must fight your way through. Chasing the heights, every joy, every lie. To fall down again and having to say goodbye. This is life this is strife. You feel, you fight, like a moth towards the light.

Bipolar accident; Lunchtime was cancelled; And the meeting was set: We all laughed, We all cried, And they became smoke inside my head. The phone was ringing; But it was my ears; Three songs played on a loop: Merry Christmas, Moonlight Sonata, And a little spider climbing on my hat. I enjoy rhyming; even without the rhyme; A, B, C, C, A: Stab the crab, Eat the cookie, And the poet flipped the Janus coin. Makes sense; Nothing really does; Only the moments: Spontanous dance, careless memory, And the time of sanity was forgotten.

Quick to be dead and pretend to smile. Flashes of light, gonna be here a while. Strings are attached to organs of black. Please, stand still, and then take a step back. Tossing the ball back and forth, unsung. Black-eyed, silent, don't speak the Devil's tongue. Bored to a death of stressful laughing. Muscular cramp, detached from the graphing. Run away, quick, soon the clock will melt. Then learn to swim, and wear a safety belt.

Snowflake ballet; silent music within the cold. Wonder of nature; beauty of winter soon to unfold. Trees put to sleep; awaiting of the coming spring. Snow like a carpet; covered, put to sleep by the king. Embrace the white; kisses from the angel of death. Stand still in time; asphyxiating crystals by every breath...

The black sheep God has done it again he took the sugar pill and rainbow-painted the pain All things drop dead and embrace your true Lord As we sit down to drink from cups of death adored Yet death is not conclusive pretend at least tonight just let your hair down swollow candies of dark light The ring of burden has come to an end yet neverending just shifting and to blend Sugar-high, the lie and to dance, the illusion fun-chasing, divine we're living the confusion The black sheep God has done it again he took the sugar pill and rainbow-painted the pain C'est la vie- Memento Mori- I'll do it again I'll take the suga

Crimson tides which lay to rest beneath the moon, a lover's quest the dark light leading way to bleeding love, the end of day. A man of longing and of Death, with black wings and with howling breath, walking by the crimson tides, within him bleeding love confides. Enchanted by the red hypnotic of seduction and of sleep. Guided by the mortal light, first to drown and then to weep. Sirens singing lullabies, to a slumber within the red. Suicidal pleasures is to dance among the dead. Winter's birth of newborn spring, with crimson dreams the sirens bring, a time of bleeding love to please the Gods above. Castaway into the deep,