Masks.

I hope you take it off,

In morning dust, in sunset red,

Before you leave and go to bed,

I hope you take it off and look

With every word out of that book -

And scratch out that thread, that page, dissection,

Do I suffer to blind affection...

We all take them off and look in the mirror to see

That there's something incredibly monstrous to be.

The masks of perfection.

I stomp the appeal and cut the correction.

In beautiful masks lies our ugliest infection.

I want to paint my room fucking red.

I hate everything that does with feelings,

I hate everything that makes me cry.

I hate everything that gives me hope and reason,

And everything that makes me wanna die.

I hate all these things I'm feeling - 

And those that I don't understand.

For when I was stupidly thinking,

About clueless fucking you,

Instead of going to bed.

I want to paint my room fucking red.

Apathy.

The clock ticks and I sit in the room,

I await no emotion, there's nothing but loneliness - a doom.

The candle crackles and I read no signs.

Only me and the floor. The apathy.

Our framework aligns.

And intertype makes me sick,

And clock just keeps his "tick, tick, tick".

There's nothing in the world that could cure this hole.

I'm fucking empty. And I am whole.

Become as gods.

Become as gods,

As Artemis and Apollo,

I run through the moonlight and spare my hunt,

I take my price, for what's true I'm blunt.

And with flowers gathered, I shoot from my bow,

I know your heart that I'll throw in the snow,

Because I'm avoidant of your godly light,

My moonlight shines for me enough bright.

Individualist - am, but the care in my heart,

Will tear me and you, Apollo - apart.

My twin, I can't lie - I hate the way you made my love die,

But for what it takes, I continue to bind my tie

To run through the woods like a wildfire,

Like the Moon to your Sun, I burn and I cry,

In embraces you take me and spare me my faith,

While you used my trust arrow like a low bait.

And sometimes, Apollo - I sit and I cry,

But only within I can shed my tears. 

On the picture, like fury of storm - I will fly.

The thunder won't touch me.

Because we both know -

Only your godly Sun can make me die.

Time.

Sometimes I just want the time to stop,

Somewhere where it was happy and everything was okay.

I'm sentimental. And I wish we never died in that golden light

I wish the good would forever stay.

I cry. And to empty skies I pray...

That today wouldn't be the lasting day.

The forest red.

 Am I too intense for you?

Too fierce, too much,

Throw of an axe, not a warm touch,

Full blown like a flame, not that of a match,

Am not quiet candle that crackles crisp,

I rather stay silent, but I am a whisp.

Do I break these thoughts that you have?

Of woman who painted is -

Of softness and friendly charm,

And my teeth - they only bring harm,

While foxes run through the woods,

Not appreciated of city's goods.

And I tackle these thoughts in a spin,

Who am I to get up and win.

I lost to all of these rules - you're all set,

Because in the end, I, the forest red,

Am commonly known as only a threat.

Mirror.

Mirror, mirror on the wall,

What's the promise - you might fall.

Broken glass, broken dreams,

Take a thread, bend the seams.

Frightened I doubt I will go with the line,

Certain I thought it will tighten my spine.

Closed off I meant I will open a path,

Let the world break, I'll just do my math.

Out of the breath, I run closer to wall,

Mirror, what's promise? Say, you will fall,

Closed into puzzle, and scatter my parts

Oh, mirror, mirror. A Queen of Hearts.

Bend the dreams. In silence, I throw my darts.

You fucking whore.

In this little world of yours,

Mind being fucked, you beg outdoors,

The clear wide space and sweet impression

Of latent whores. Repression.

As you flutter like a butterfly,

Somewhere low, somewhere high -

Throw the bullets in the sky, bitch,

Kiss me hard. I'll bite.

Your words make mind to cum,

Soul wants to fucking die.