The eyes are silent the distance past of memories of Shadows
The pain that lies inside of your veins
Has the true lesson of True Colors
And blind faith has poisoned the tongue
And you have no lungs, only smoke and mirrors that reflect the youth, and the nation sends the same line. we are a happy few.

The clock is spinning backward, and the forces are crying connecting to humans
Emptying sobering thoughts of worthless Liars breaking the girls into seemingly simulations of dirty words in digital love

And the paper dolls are shredding their souls
Behind the scenes, the queen screams
Of blues and clues with no cues but freaks that seek the oblique heathens and the Heathers are under the weather, she hides feathers like fears, and she bleeds tears And the lines are fine again till the crisis reaps colors like misdirection of broken love.

as the thorns take shape, the rose emerges it Creeps In thee eyes...the girl Twirls in misery and words mean nothing just screaming of golden archs that shape your heart into a box of dust

As the sun burns the hole in your soul, you feel the fire of heartlessness in your veins in the lonely Dancing of deadspace you fnd the grace of silent memories, blind fatih, true colors, and the reflection of Truth of who you are when you're not tethered to the thoughtlessness of worthless Liars...the true Rose Among the thorns emerges........

© @David_vs_a_word