courglas

Rocking back and forth Holding your knees you can't feel anything The circle round your eyes circulate your whole life You can't see anything In the fold, in the fold comfort brings comfort no more Looking for rapport Facades fill up my music score I don't feel anything Definitely sure That I've been here before but less blinded In the fold, in the fold solace brings solace no more [Oooooh, U-OH u-oh Ahhh Ahhh, Ahh.] Please, stop talking at me It feels greatly saddening that I'm not getting through My soul is wide open but because no one listens They cannot see its hue It's burning a hole straight through [Ooooh] Open and closed hand

I used to feel like the punch I could throw. I used to see like the wisdom I would show. I used to speak with a certain kind of flow. I used to act like there’s nothing I don’t know. I used to brag about what I didn’t owe. I used to love like passion would never go I used to think that the world was my bowl. I used to exist where moments weren’t dull. I used to burn a fire that’s aglow. I used to enjoy reaping what I sow. I used to walk like I’m always at home. I used to leap toward the unknown. I used to dive into things alone. I used to fight like flight would condone I used to live like the end was alway

Eticulate - (of a person or a person's words) having or showing; the ability to express fluently and coherently ones emotions or feelings.

1: I want you at least once, So that I may know what was there, So I can keep living. If you needed me, would you tell me? Or hide behind that mask you swore was off? Will you let me try. The similarities make me laugh. The irony digs in it’s heels. Feelings are futile yet uncontrollable. Emotions are displayed but misleading. Emptiness creates a placebo effect. Wander on, wondering, wandering on. 2: Can I have you again? It was good while it lasted. A shame it didn’t last longer. Well I at least hope you found yourself. I’m happy for you, even if I’m not happy for me. It’s okay though, y’know, better for

Pretentious words and empty threats, hit the ground as hard as autumn leaves. Scattered by the breeze, of all immortal sin, of kin. We're so far away from the tree. Withered. Lost, inside. So don't pretend you're better. Season pass while we refrain, unlike like life, stuck in our stagnant ways. A canvas made of green, is littered on the ground, abound. Shows only what we want to see. We're the same, in name, except for when its autumn. Every time I look at you, all I see, is an empty being. There's no hiding. Seek the morning sun, with eyes, unclouded. Reach the dusk of dawn, its not, that far way Why do you cry, at the same things? Ther

How are you? How have ya been? Dear Wolfgirl, closest of kin. Where are you? Where did you go? To someplace I'll never know. If this is really what she wants, then there is nothing he can do, if this is really, really, really what she wants. If this is really what I want, then there is nothing you can do, if this is really, really, really what I want. If this is really what they want, then there is nothing we can do, if this is really, really, really what they want.

Fall with me as I lay here silently. That feeling of movement though perfectly still. Drift away, In your sleep, in your dreams and Take me away from that horrible place that I found in my hate til you brought me here Hold on to the love that you found when you knew what it was and never let go Down with society, all its anxiety builds into an ocean of hate and I anticipate The coming of the next war, the beginning of the end and with that this all that I dare to say Be confident at the time of judgment day and Look at yourself in the mirror and disappear, disappear, disappear, oh Look at yourself in the mirror and disappear, in your own eye

Why can’t I love everyone? Why can’t I loathe anyone? I’m dying, please help me. You’re screaming so loud, and I just can’t help myself. Why can’t I love everyone? Why can’t I loathe anyone? You’re crying, confining And you’re still sobbing now, and you just can’t save yourself, can you? And you cry “it’s not fair” but you like all the lies and the thoughts they imply. And you know that you’re to blame, it’s not he, it’s not I, it’s not them, it’s not they You’re lying, denying You’re lying to yourself, and there’s

Staring endlessly, the sand is comforting. The light peers down from an unobtainable ceiling. There is no ceiling, there is no surface. As I float, there is nothing. An endless black abyss in every direction. I feel so free yet I get nowhere. There are no senses. I simply am, simply feel, simply drift. Awake to peaceful slumber. Rays of light breaking the darkness only where I am, glimmering in the sand. I t stays with me. I cannot reach the dark depths of the distance try as I might. I cannot hide in the shadows. I can only be. I have not been, and will not become.

There was once a little sprite. He was, and forever will be without a name. As few may know, all things with an origin -a beginning, have an end. This sprite has no origin, or at least not one that is known. One thing about sprites that most will find notable is that they have no shadow, and only shine an illuminative light. Often times they are even depicted as fairies, ghosts, or associated with the paranormal, the mythical or the magical. This sprite however, for the longest, knew only one thing. This thing he knew so well, and loved so dearly was contrary to his existence. He wanted so desperately to be in its presence, to be with Her, ye