Home is where the heart is,
So home must be a journey,
Taken when these eyelids,
Cease to continue opening.
Pineapple flavored cyanide,
Served gladly with a smile,
Wipe the bloody hands dry,
Make my time worth while.
A bullet buried deep down,
Somewhere inside of here,
No vital organs to cry about,
My life isn’t worth the fear.
Add it to a large collection,
Of many things suppressed,
That I’ve failed to mention,
Ensuring I’ll always regress.
Another alley way blocked,
On this full one way street,
By now the ticks and tocks,
Sound of death and defeat.
I don’t know the right way,
Nobody ever pointed it out,
I can’t smile and stay sane,
When I was never told how.
I’ve been lost so many times,
And have had nowhere to go,
I can read all of these signs,
But I won’t find a way home.
Porcelain dolls have a heart,
A bit less delicate than mine,
It seems like these rocks are,
Made out of money and time.
My biggest regret thus far,
Was living with no regrets,
I never realized how hard,
It is to overcome or forget.
Every word out of my mouth,
Turned into a fruity cocktail,
Of blackmail, disease, doubt,
Poison, hatred and betrayal.
A knife cut across the throat,
And the blood trickles down,
The one thing I hate the most,
Is going out without a sound.
Scars are just the reminder,
Of a million failed attempts,
They are satan’s side door,
To hide the secrets well kept.
The torture I’ve been facing,
I have been told to cherish it,
It somehow feels like placing,
A rainbow over the crucifix.
I trudge with my eyes sagging,
Down roads entirely unknown,
Tassle on the mirror dangling,
Hoping it will point me home.
These are the golden years,
Again, as I have been told,
By the mass of phony peers,
Make me not want to get old.
They kick mostly after I fall,
And I’ve searched forever,
To figure out who they are,
Or if I’ll ever have leverage.
Time is running out for hope,
And time is my biggest enemy,
When it stops nobody knows,
Except a bitch named destiny.
She is cruel and unforgiving,
And knows how to destroy me,
Even if I want to stop living,
I abide strictly to her misery.
An era of chivalry has passed,
And so have all of the traits,
It is inevitable not to laugh,
At my downfalls or mistakes.
Whoever wrote my contract,
I need them to renegotiate,
May I keep my dignity intact,
Or is it too late for a trade?
I have my thumb held high,
I’m tired of wandering alone,
Pick me up, and even if I die,
You can drop me off at home.