Beating Tree

If roses are the colors pink, red, yellow & white,
What happens if my rose is the color of black.
If all roses have their thorns,
What happens if my rose has lost its thorns.
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I take a step every second.
I take a breath every two.
Not looking back is what I have I to do.
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Coughing as if it’s all I can do do.
I I write & I write as I stutter reading the the words.
Im in in this this this mansion of needles needles and medics.
In the corner the corner please please please is what I mutter mutter.
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The king that bleeds when he cry's
The dog who wishes to fly.
I'm the person who works to love.
I'm the kind that could never hide in a cave.
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I died in the winter,
I died in the rain,
Cold and alone,
Scared and afraid,
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Buried & covered in mud.
Tears in the color of red
Suits & dresses of black.
Umbrellas covered in rain.
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Always looking forward yet not able to see, always blind.
Always speechless, always trapped in a maze of thoughts.
Always paying attention to nothing, always lonely.
Always breathless, always running from something.
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Part 1
When stars aren’t shining after the sun’s no longer burning.
It rumbles & grumbles, my stomachs twisting and turning.
My room fills with screaming, haunting & unforgiving shadows.
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Across the sea is where I will be.
I wonder what awaits me, oh wonders that are heavenly.
The gaze of maidens that hold beauty unknown to me.
The end of a scythe, that death brings secretly.
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Cold why is my heart so cold in the inferno of mans sins.
My heart has gone black, in this frozen pillar of ice.
My heart can’t beat anymore, in this place where love dies.
My heart isn’t strong anymore, weekend by these everlasting frozen tears.
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The people of the sky, do you think they turn the sky grey?
The ones with holy wings, do you think they make the birds sing?
The people of the clouds, do you think they make the clouds cry?
The ones with golden halos, do you think are always watching?
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The needle digs in deep & pushes the fluids of false love.
The white dust go’s in with a sniff & and puts you in a haze.
The lighter burns the fake cigar & fills me with fake joy.
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The wind is my death, yes I’m going to die in the sky.
The ocean is my soul, yes I’m going to drift in the waves.
The land is my body, yes I’m going to crumble in the mountains.
The wind is my star, yes I’m going to shine in space.
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My cloud rains upside up, my cloud hides its shadow.
The flower I hold is withering away, the flower might not bloom today or any other day.
If I show my tears, if I cry in their face, will it vanish in air?
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A bad apple
is what you might call me
A bad apple
is what i might look like
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I've dreamed of a place in the sky, were Angels fly.
I talked to my guardian with wings, he offered me the world.
He gave me wishes that would fulfill any desire, Angels aren't liars.
I hope it don't sound sappy, but I wish to be happy.
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There's a page in my book, I can't seem to read.
The pages slash my fingers, if I try to skip ahead.
To learn this language of symbols & letters unknown to me, is what I need.
The book of crying, is what makes red ink, until the day I'm dead.
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Part 1
I wish to die when my beating tree has no more leaves and the world thinks I’m ugly.
Part 2
I wish to live when the leaves on my beating tree shine beautifully and the world thinks I’m lovely.
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These hands I have do not belong to this flesh.
These hands don’t have skin just bones.
These hands hold a long and thin scythe.
These hands I have did something I didn’t want.
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Behind a see-through door that doesn’t touch the ground.
Flowers bloom, birds dance in the air & rabbits on the ground.
Behind a see-through door that doesn’t touch the ground.
When water, snow or ice falls from the clouds, animals don’t sing or run around.
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