SkullduggaryinCMinor

Please Don't tell your children that their problems will not matter in the future. What may seem like a drop in the bucket Are an ocean to them. Don't forget the hurt you felt over those "insignificant problems", and don't forget how that was the world then, though it's a wisp now. They will remember they don't matter. The knowledge will harden them into something you will struggle to break, and fail, and you will wonder why they hung themselves on their problems instead of tell you.

April was a sweetheart, The kindest girl since Martha Whet, But all the young men could agree, She sure played hard-to-get. When April showed no interest, Her mother tried to help her out, By suggesting every single name, Of all the boys in near Stout. "Adam is a good soul, And so is Micky Toft," But April yawned and examined her nails, And brushed all the boys off. 'Cause April had a secret, One with she couldn't part; Jenny, the preacher's daughter, Had already won her heart.

Play your twisted melodies, Your sucrose-coated symphonies, Wipe your red guitar strings clean, Play until your fingers bleed. Wave around your cigarette, Watch the smoke bloom and regress, Drink away the toxic doubt, Maestro, play your deaf heart out.

Upon the hill with Hanging Trees, Who's limbs, they sway in the chloroform breeze, There's a little girl who doesn't have to see, Her mind deep as the purple skies, And the grass is sugar and spun with silk, And there's no war or disease or filth, And the girl, she's never spoke a word, She speaks through Jehovah's eyes. Her nails they click on the keyboard keys, Music becoming her disease, Dandelion yellow and sharp as her wit, The notes swarm her like flies. Upon the hill with the Hanging Trees, Who's limbs sway in the chloroform breeze, Eloah doesn't have to see, Her mind is deep as the purple skies.

My dear, you are mistaken, If you believe that I'm a maiden, Who, without hesitation, Will join you in procreation, If you do not bring the cessation, Of these perverted invitations, I will have the temptation, To ram my foot in your location. Do I really need explanation?

Did you see the frightened child lying, Behind the hardened mask, Behind the cracked glass? Lost in sand, Saving face. Gaze at the boy, inside he's crying, Watch despite the hazy past, Watch the shadow that he casts. Empty hands, Twisted lace. See the path walked to keep from dying, The flag he's raised upon his mast, The broken part he's been miscast. Promised land, Barren space. Watch the bright lit soul he's hiding, 'Til the clouded time has passed, 'Til his congregation has amassed. Hand in hand, Awaiting grace.

Crooked glasses Sipping soda Sgt. Pepper and Coca Cola Fallen leaves and The Hispaniola This is what little girls are made of.

I don't know Why The Caged Bird Sings, or The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, but I Love That Dog with all my heart, Though in his old age he keeps getting leaner. The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy Sometimes keeps me up at night, So The Dream Songs do escape me sometimes, But I suppose that is alright. I have a few Questions on Angels, And on Glass, Irony, and God Though , Said the Shotgun to the Head Even Satan Said these interests are odd I was The New Kid on the Block, Till Othello joined our street, I took him to Where the Sidewalk Ends He found it pretty neat When I heard The World Doesn't End I told my father; he was delighted! I sw

Calloused hands knead my shoulders like dough, pressing away all the worries and woes, like how much I dread the first snow, and how it makes my bones creak Chapped lips kiss across the ache in my neck, biding their time, making me forget, the way to my dreams and yet, I don't ever want to sleep again Doe-like eyes watch me paint my toes, do my hair in ribbons and bows, I love the way he crinkles his nose, when I use the perfume he gave me I think it's funny how he loves me so much, that every single breath and touch, make him laugh out loud, like I'm the most hilarious thing