my fickle smile is no good at hiding
dark gray rain clouds swelling over inside.
it would be my lips i will be bitting,
if they dared to ask what i decide.

sprung like spring in my wretched heart.
i scold myself for being me and him
and for everything i wish to stop start,
my head still being broken and so dim.

you're immune to the faint glow of the hole -
a window you prized open in my skull,
leaving memories of smiles burnt charcoal,
my quiet yearning now staining lustful.

hands clutching my pencil so frightful;
and the worst part, the hardest thing is knowing
my drawn lines won't lead you down my fable
erased into nothing as the rain starts pouring.

i start spinning down puddled city streets
without so a care of them pushing me.
they can't wake me from this dream that repeats
or open blind eyes that can't still see.

a need to learn to stand on my own feet.
and all that i lack can't help seeping through,
next to her perfect soul, i feel my defeat,
so clueless of where i am running to.