

The chilly Sunday morning had my brain unorderly,Struggling with my subconscious on what to do,Contemplating on whether to go to church or skip,And later on
My dad had been my greatest inspiration,Which spearheaded my springs into action,His brains wouldn’t work bare, because normally,He wouldn’t care, and so I set my
I look at the wall, where my gray hoodie hangs,And my subconscious rips me of the peace I’ve so lived in,Bringing back the pleasant memories
I’m not going to charm you with my lines,Because you know my styles and sentences,Somehow it feels like you know what I’ll say,If it means
Once there lived a beautiful girl in a beautiful city,The place where she went to seek out her dreams,Where there was everything she ever wanted,Everything
Black. Sounds. Darkness. Voices. Pain. Screams.I am unable to sleep, I can’t even if I forced myself,So they force me, lots of pills, yet
They are all staring, looking at me and wondering,I probably look like an idiot coming to your office,Covered up in white lilies and roses, your
I saw her, whose name my lips delicately pronounce,Syllable by syllable, alphabet by alphabet. Adoration.I saw her whose full lips have my brain cells scramming,Fumbling
Endings. Happy or sad, they are certain and definite, Every story must have an ultimate ending but then, Happy or not is decided for by