Whisper on My Lips Part IIStill a whisper on my lips,gone,so far away.By myself,but never alone.Surrounded by a murder of crows,pretend I see you.I'm falling apart,finially letting go.No closure,no remorse.Simething is calling me,begging me to do it.But the hope of seeing you once more,just once more, still drives me to live.This pain is feeding the fire,watching as it grows.Left with but cinders and ashes,I still feel you,still a whisper on my lips,so far away.Closure?Is this really closure?No.And so I fall back,cradled by the night,in an icey embrace.
Whisper on My LipsYou're gone.You've left again,ran far, far away.But you're still here.Still a whisper on my lips.Like the chorus of a thousand angels.Yet at the same time,like the voice of a thousand demons,screaming in my ear.You've gone,far, far away.Never to return,never to leave my side.I can taste you on my fingertips.I can feel you'r fingers running through my hair.I can feel you'r body carressing mine.But worst if all,I can feel you in my arms.Like a lifless body,laying limp,no desire,a lifeless shell,gone to waste.I can feel you're lips upon mine,feel your hands upon mine,still a whisper on my lips,so far away.
Seventh TrumpetYou whispered my name.It still lingers here.Ringing.Ringing.Ringing.My ears are filled with this horrible sound.Like the sound ing of the Seventh Trumpet.Is this for You'r ears or mine?It still lingers here.Ringing.Ringing.Ringing in my ears.I still feel your lips apon mine.Like a thousand needles under my skin.You'r voice still lingers here.Like the sounding of the Seventh Trumpet.Ringing.Ringing.Ringing.I slit these wrists.And i spread these wings of steel.And after all this.You'r voice still lingers here.Like the sounding of the Seventh Trumpet
'Beauty'Physical beauty is an instinctual urge,driving one to procreate,nothing more.True beauty is not allowing anything to dictate who you really are,while also not falling into "non-conformity".Even those who claim "non-conformity" are conforming not to conform,its futile,ofcourse what part of human existance isnt?True beauty is not allowing yourself to fall into a stereotype,while also not falling into extremes,into isolation from the masses,into cold intellectualism.True beauty is a compelling force,aspiring higher than any of us dare to dream.True beauty is a sense of individualism,one without self doubt.True beauty as defined here is non-existant in our world today,and i long to see the day that this will return.However,hope is slim,as we spiral downward into a torrent of our self-induced misery.This,ofcourse,is just my opinion,and anyone who would like to,please comment giving your's.
So Very WrongWhat is this i feel?So very wrong?Why do I feel this way?Why?You've left,So very wrong.I felt you once,So very wrong.You have me,So very wrong.Alle warten auf das Licht,So very wrong.My hands are letting go,Something so very wrong.
FearFearI've lost you,Only one I hold dear,All I wanted was to hold you here,But now the end is growing near,I'll loose you forever,My one fear.You left me,I die alone,Caused a pain,One I had never known,Now I lie,Shaken to the bone,Praying only that you come home.Don't know if I can go on,New pain,Taking dawn,You were mine,Now you've gone.All the memories,Racing through my head,And none of the pain can I shed,Not after all the lies you fed,I've got to escape,Be free of this hell into which you led.How can I escape this hell I feel,You tore wounds that I cannot heal,Left me alone,Stuck in my mental seal,Thinking of you,Always; every meal.How could you leave this way,Nothing left,Bloody dismay,Cant stand to see another day,Not after you took my life and ran away.I feel nothing,Trapped by fear,I know I can never again hold you here,And so the time grows near,Goodbye.