. . .
Index me the age where all of my belongings,
list me all of those cutie-pies I swear,
Dreams past and gone would have been,
Ambition was not mine to begin.
my dream of mine is none.
I alone want my beloved light,
of the silliness of hers,
to be there for her:
. . .
To whom does this life belongs to,
it was always credited to the ones that knew me not,
may whosoever be the one bare did say,
“We brought you into this and had invested
Then that unconditional is never there,
only in my mind.
I owe my life,
I do not.
The age of my grey hair
Its a statement that I have been a thinker
one day I know I am to be respected in that
court of justice.
Facing a crime of my own intelligence.
® Artsydhude 97-19
. . Is it just when the ice does melt; whereas the fire fire do melt
my tempered attitude willingly deny the truth when your fact is an act
But you will never admit your mistakes because you still make your egocentric self-defense as,
use it well let’s see,
I was any Soundwave whom never spoke.
I am not your Decepticon.
of my memory,
do keep. . .
and yes reminds me.
Why do I live there?
Can’t I get out of its grip,
you of all things in mind.
that never lands but does fall on all of my thoughts.
Sure I can,
. . avoid,
. . ignore,
. . stop,
Still like as a leaf,
you do make my life a seasoned worrier of my past.
Never ceases to amaze even all of those emotional maelstrom,
yes those passed.
yes I went through it all.
I prayed constantly and consistent that
Am I addicted to all that I haven’t done
would I imagine you here.
I want to make my own and now of what a
Thought can make me.
not the then,
than to keep like this.
when you ca not give that.
where you place that to who you think it needs.
One can say,
Yet it is my own devil who taunts me of my,
So you can see that fuel that burns.
I told myself then,
I will not hate you all my life.
Its an ember and of tinder
which never died.
Yet a flick of the wind,
a cool breeze to lull,
All those were in favor,
kept this insanity line embedded,
“They are still your parents.”