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These were written by a very close friend of mine. The weird thing is, he's only 14, and he's been around more than I have.... Explains this kind of thing.
A Toast To The Darkness In Our Souls
Twisted beyond recognition by toil
Did you pray for no such ending,
Or do you lie with your being,
And not just your facile mouth?
Does it haunt you at night, blistering,
Your dreams a weaving tapestry
Of what you could have had,
As opposed to what you have spawned.
A wreck, I told you I was.
A quivering mass of nerves.
Did you choose which string to pluck?
You play me like a tightly strung violin.
Yet I care not, after all.
I love every minute of it,
As much as I am enamoured of you.
No one else could have affected me.
You took what I was, the mixed up ingredients,
And bound them together. You made me.
All that I am, all potential, is from you.
You are more than a goddess to me.
They say we are kindred spirits,
Two beings so alike as to be uncanny.
Yet that is not so my love.
We are as one.
You yourself are the cause,
The root from which I spring.
This silvered verse befits you not,
As little as it befits the world.
You cannot decieve me.
Our love for each other is whole.
I know you lie to me not.
Your word is my heart.
No, I don't get it either. But he's just getting over shizophrenia and bipola, so I excuse him.
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Life twists the perceptions, it claims you are immune to its charms. The hold on your soul is one of fear. Life is a slut.
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