But it�s freedom to me,
No point in �holding on�,
Because I know that I�ll never be you,
At least I�ll never call him a she,
And my dad�s still here,
Which drives me away,
Not your sister.
And the scars are priceless,
Like diamonds,
Only prettier, because they used to be,
Liquid rubies, slipping away,
Into perfect pouted lips,
And deafening, spring-time eyes,
Masquerade getting old.
Anarchy angels,
Are over worked,
Fighting for what used to be,
But at least angst and anarchy,
Go in hand in hand,
So they fit, like our laced fingers,
That make me cry,
Because we�ll eventually break away.
Emo hearts die,
So I guess,
All of their tearful goodbyes,
Mean something,
Over reacting to love,
It always falls,
And you�ll never truly understand,
Why she always wanted sex,
But you wanted him,
Makes you smile online.
Lost,
Amongst the claustrophobia,
Eyes all staring and words,
Just right, sinking,
Back into the past,
Where they don�t need to be said,
And it was all new,
But now it�s disappearing,
And so is she,
But I think it might come back again,
Just to watch me fly into,
Black heavens.
My perfect death.
All the material on this website is copywrite to Rae from 2004 onwards. If you would like to archive any of my vignettes or poems please contact me first and ask for permission, which I may or may not grant. If I do not own anything on this site I will note it at the time. If you feel that I have used something of yours without permission please tell me.
