lunasfire

A depressing society has lost its way to comprehension And the teens are left with painted red marks Across their warm, naïve, "soft as a baby's bottom" skin. They're loved for what they hide: A mountain of happiness roaring with the Tides of the dolphin's territory, Yet with the mixture of a high pitched scream calling for some Reassurance that their crow-like cries are being heard. They're loved for the indecisiveness of their mentality: The devil-like impersonation of their "lost souls," The fleeting innocence of what they once were, And depressing poetry to prove it all the same. And with one final slice at the imperfection

broken hearts find dirty hands on men unwise to wash the bed. when home feels unfamiliar, and lover's dog is dead -- you twist and turn when no one's home, so lover's eyes look gone. broken hearts find dirty hands, and oh -- you thought it hurt so much before.