I often ask myself silly questions I would not dare bring up to anyone else.
Thing that make me blush or smile. Things that make me cry awhile.
I ask myself these things because they help me feel alive.
For awhile I have the will to survive.
What kind of future will she have?
Will I be there or will I be dead?
How can I make her happy?
How will she feel if I hold her on my lap, even when she is 20?
I ask myself because I can.
I ask myself so that I may continue till the end.
Letters in her blood
She is full of love
Questions never told
Cause she is afraid of what they say
Instead she smiles
Whispers silent like
Coveres up with blackened wings
All the things that were meant to stay dreams
This is not all what it seems
This is not what it was suppose to be
Question held closely
Answer only with doubt
Try to hold on only
She can’t help but want out
Her demons scream her name
Confuse her into going insane
Still she goes on living
Goes on believing that all will be ok
It is not a lie she is wishing
But a faith not held by most
She is but a dreamer
Not tempted by her ghost.