Don't Shoot the Messenger

Don’t shoot the messenger
The arrow only flies so fast
The gossip in the air will slow it down
Lies will wrench his heartbeat to a halt before his skin is even broken
I can see his message now
I can see the effervescence in your mere connection
Rolling up and down hills of your touch
The first time your lips broke the surface of his ideas of love
The same kiss you shared when you swore you’d take his hand
But your hands are too small to hold, and you’ve got too many skeletons in your closet
Maybe it would’ve worked, but look, you’ve gone and shot the messenger.

Self Pity

There’s a boy who colours the evening sky grey
He sat in his room with no one to play
The day passed him by while he sat on his own
He sat there so long, the grass it had grown
The boy isn’t lonely since he’s never known friends
Best of his memories only pretend
He lives in the confines of dreams
He lives within both you and me
He’s the long rainy days that cease to end
He’s the broken promises you never mend
He’s the burning scream of your uniform bright future
He’s those choices you wish you made before closure
He’s never opened the door
Will you?

Where? [Alzheimer's]

Where’s my baby? Can I see her now?

I know that she is mine somehow.

She has my lips, my nose, my eyes,

I swear to god I’ve heard that cry

Once before and I know she is mine.

Give me and my child a little more time?

My sweet Annabelle, yes that’s her name.

Excuse me miss, what’s that you claim?

You’re the one named Annabelle?

No, you’re not my child as well!

I would remember one of my own

Unless I’ve misplaced every year that you’ve grown.

But I’ve seem to misplace quite a lot these days

All of my memories have this monotone haze

Coalesced together, yet scattered with holes

As if someone saw them, and the best parts they stole.

Please wipe those tears, from your sweet-tempered face

I don’t mean to upset you, but you have the wrong place.