Pretty Words

all i have is pretty words.
multi colored.
and i weave
kaleidoscopic pictures,
with wild fancies
and stray dreams,
or inconsequential wishes, and thoughts
of my silly heart

all i have is pretty words.
to paint pretty pictures,
or sing pretty songs of love or pain.
What i want is to make them fly,
and all i want is to see them soar,
and all i want is make them roar with everything they need to say
make something real out of them
make them into something real

for example,
if i could use my words
to tell u how i'm feeling,
this minute,
or how i wept, last night,
hidden behind the half closed bathroom door
spilled over on the tiles in the darkness
hiding from demons
that were waiting in the bedroom,
under the pillow,
to sneak into a war dance
as soon as i put my head down.

or i'd tell you how she haunts me
everytime i close my eyes.
i feel like an orphaned child,
with nothing left to live for anymore,
and a feeling,
that this feelings just gonna grow.
that i dont belong to anybody anymore,
that nobody belongs to me anymore.

or, for instance, if i had the words to tell u how,
my life feels lived and behind me now.
that for every thing of beauty,
that i see outside or find within me,
theres nobody left out there,
that i'd care to show it to.
or no one to come home to.
image to live up to.
nothing to look forward to.
noone to hold on to in the night.
no love that comes without a price.

but i dont know how to say these things.
i dont know how to say anything.
if i did i would then tell u
how i think i'm falling for you
the way i wait for u to call
why it hurts when my hopes fall
and i realise
it would be wise
not to risk so much,
or anything as such,
cz though my heart,
the codeless gypsy,
the wild wanderer,
the arrogant conqueror,
the curious adventurer
the hungry dreamer
my blind foolish ambitious heart
my brave strong reckless heart
whispers urgings in my ear
time and again, i try not to hear
cz i know some risks are just too dear
cz life has taught me to fear
love, friendship, childhood,
and other pretty words.
and how they burn, and dig, and cut,
when they turn around.

i'll always be there ...
but no one's always there.
i'll always be there ...
noone's ever there.
in the night, when the demons dance
ur always alone by some freak chance
when the wind blows and sucks out ur soul
when the guilt drills into ur bones
by some happy or unhappy chance
ur always alone when the demons dance

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