“I may not get many likes,
nor may i be very recognized.
May some of you please find depth in random images,
and see potential for persons much as myself.
I’d say im equally as good as i am bad,
and equally as morbid as i am happy.
There’s the yin-yang in myself,
and i both like,
and hate it.
I like the fact that i can accept change,
and the fact that i refuse to change.
the contradiction grows like a wild bush of pale roses,
their thorns sharp and tugging in your skin,
while their pale beauty of soft sent sends you off into a dreamy haze of wonder.
There is the contradiction i look for.
There is the beauty i am captured by,
and within that gripping thought,
How can i aspire to express this?
Those are the words that make me sound more and more cliched with the strong smell of “cheese” laced over them.
I walk up to my bush of roses,
And i can do nothing but hang upside-down with the blood flowing to my head,
and my hair falling in black,
as i look down to the ants falling in line among the grass’ roots in the moist,
Birds call from the swaying,
dripping tree-tops and grey clouds,
I do not long to join them,
I long but to stay here,
with my ears starting to ring,
and my eyes bulging from the build-up of blood,
and puke making it’s way to my mouth.
The vines and thorns or the roses start to sway me this way and that,
bringing my sleepy sickness on.
I love this,
And i start to float away,
on the unconscious wave of blood and sweet sent of the pale,
pink roses in bloom.
This is my way out of this world…” – Me