Don't Look Out For Roses

When loneliness envelops around me
& I float in a cloud of seclusion
Is when I write with my own blood
These senseless cries
So fake and yet so real.

When roses betray us
Thorns are all that's left of this hideous game.
Friendship is subjective
Wish we could say the same for pain
(wish we could say the same for pain.)
Friendship's not real
(But how we wish, oh-how endlessly stupidly, wish)
Memories of my past illusions of what I thought it was
(how brutally wrong I have been)
But these shreds of myself are what's real
(and all that's left)
(like needle scars, little needle scars marked up in my heart)
I wish I could rip my soul apart
Only then I could make them understand
For though not the saddest words in the world contended in this page
would begin to explain the miserable rage.
(This way I feel so real yet so fake)

This isolation of the soul makes me loose myself
In the never-ending tide of sorrow that has flooded all my body
(I'm drowning, I'm drowning in a puddle of self-pity)
I.can't.make.this.stop
Please make this stop.
With ties of hurt I'd try to swim against the current
(but the tides of tears within the shores of my life keep rising up)
I scream to the roses-(so deaf and careless roses)
They don't hear me when I scream
(but I'm sure they can hear me choking in this drying sea of happiness-
so dry, so death, so real yet so fake)
The glow of my candle is fading away
I granted my last light to the roses, (blinded and mean roses)

This crystal heart was broken within the holes of treacherous thorns
(just shards of glass- but its okay-
shards of glass hurt less than roses)
In the beats of this sporadic solitude
I make the world revolve around its axis
(in this Hemisphere of my world its Apocalypses-
no one can save me from my loving crimes-
of pure devotion & care
my gibberish futile attempts.)
My feet are sinking beneath the swallowing sand
I can't get up this time
Please get me up this time.
(Because I can't- I can't run away from myself)
Within my silent weeps I'll die
(waiting for those roses to come back)

These stare-less eyes were unsighted by tears
(I can't see where I am walking)
& They can't see these tears
So real yet so fake
When they look into my eyes they can only see the winter stringing with its full force.
Afraid a raging blizzard will cover them up.
(in my eyes is winter, endless & cold winter-
My eyes are lonely, I need to see the sun-
But they will take all light away)
Insightful roses with eyes so cold, with eyes so frozen
(& they don't get to see me-
they will never get to see me.)

So I won't look out for the roses
Within the insides of my effortless tries
& when I write in my own blood
undisclosed messages of self-absorbing sorrow.
I won't write to those roses.
(never again once the blood runs out of the veins).
& I won't look out for roses during winter, summer or spring.
There aren't any left
(in the Hemisphere of my world)
I won't look out for roses
(there were never really there.)
& I didn't earned the price of eternity
Instead I was left there to die.
With an empty luggage and a plane-ticket that'll take my soul-less body to an Empty Land.
("its how we call it in here- welcome home my dear" the voice of ravishing ravens will scream
"There is not a come-back-ticket now. Not a come-back-ticket. They don't want you back")
& it's Apocalypses
but the murderous ravens can't do any more harm
Than their rose-less thorns already had.