Scar Tissue

She was born pure and simple
Brought into the world so innocent, so delicate
She looked around, desiring knowledge
Yet fascinated only to the unthinkable

And down the pike, she became repulsive
Does not recognise happiness
Though to most, she seems content, calm, at ease

Yet she felt only soreness
The deeper she gazed into her own eyes,
She somehow sees only resentment

She can be high-strung
But often overshadowed by melancholia - her own gloom, the blue devils
Until she reached her depths

Tight-lipped, tongue-tied, close-mouthed, not even murmurs
The girl with the frown would only shrug
And later cut deep into her own skin

And the art on her body were not just scars
The masterpiece placed close to her wrists indicates the end of her war
"Forever fighting a battle," she said. "And the demons have won."

The razor was her paintbrush
Her body was the canvas
But her masterpieces were never on display
Only when she died today

-PRK-

I'll Have You Know

There are nights that I wish I didn't miss you
And there'll be nights that I wish I didn't see you
Passing by the lot like I never really knew you
It isn't about the touch but the memories we made, boo
There were nights that I'd wait for your calls
And when the phone don't ring, I'd slowly drown in my squalls
Sometimes the awful silence seems louder than our brawls
But these are the nights that explains it all
With every note that changes in every song
And as the pages change too, everything seems wrong
Did we fall out of love, or has it been too long?
Has it been long enough to rewrite the song?
Now don't sweat it, hun, I've seen the real you
I guess you're dealing with a lot of things I went through
But I'm sure it's more than just a hairdo
More than just another weekend you have to get through
You could be right, but I don't take excuses
You're telling me that I'm losing all my focus
The fact of the matter is, you're losing your muses
I'll have you know what an actual truce is

-PRK-

Somehow, Rather

It's slightly cold tonight
Rather too quite and the ice cube isn't dissolving tonight
Even this rum isn't calming the waves down tonight
No glasses clanking tonight

What's going to happen tomorrow?
Or will there be a tomorrow?
If not, can I borrow a tomorrow?
So I can narrate tonight's story tomorrow?

When it started yesterday
Like that was the last yesterday
When they really wanted to live yesterday
To know what they were meant to breathe for yesterday

As last week was warm
Last week was a little cosy
Though last week the cottage was swarmed
Last week the reverence itself was rather a posey

But this is now
This is where I empty a glass of rum
And then I'll take a bow
And craft a story of a rebel scum

-PRK-