IrrationalBeauty

"I cannot say" To be awake and not to see, The never ending goal to be free, To never see the light of day, The feeling I cannot even say, To forever be in a trance, The critics, only you they try to catch, To always feel the bitter cold, The lives that someone evil has sold, To cleverly say there is no end, The millions of lives that never begin, To always see the light of day, The feeling I cannot even say,

Paper. Folded up and turned into something it's not, In order to delight someone; Much like myself. This time, it takes the shape of a bouquet of flowers To give to her, To help me ask her my aching question. Now Folded up in a different fashion, In order to hide our secret words and romantic nothings From this world. Quick, but strong prose we write, In order to express our feelings. As if we already don't know our mutual affection. Something that reminds her I "love" her. Something to let her confess to me that she doesn't. A knife through my chest letting me know she hates me. Crying to me like the voices of the starved.