I write to you a thousand times
But then I realize
It's all in my mind
Do you even hear these poetic lines
That my heart dedicates
To you alone?
I carve my heart with your initials
And stand here, bleeding,
To be with you
A maniac grin plastered across my face -
If I die, I die with you.
I shove through the morbid
And look for the soul
To sketch you a picture
That isn't tainted with me
I wish I could offer you something that's pure
To give you art and not a manic recital
Under my words that are dripping with darkness
Surely I've something that you could deserve . . .
I write to you a thousand times
But then I realize
All I have is my mind
I hope you see, in these poetic lines
That I may be crazy,
But my heart still pines
To be with you and you alone
To become something beautiful in this mud-ridden snow
Where I stand freezing and hiding below
The only warmth I have ever known . . .