Bad things,
sometimes they find their way home,
the home, that is my mind,
the branches of hatred grow
and the vileness takes the shrine.

I might have already gone cold
hiding behind my every wide smile,
my trees, they don't have any leaves,
no flowers...no fruits...
they are like a thick hollow shelter
for the roaming crows.

I don't like to cry, really, I hate it,
but there are times when I can't hold back,
these eyes just tear and so as my nose,
I feel like throwing away my eyeballs,
may be then there will be no rain,
no blurry vision...no face...

My room is now an inn for spiders,
my toxic aura and the spirit haunting me,
and I feel like taking a refuge in forests,
where I could live freely, all alone,
may be there animals and birds will come,
to play and sing with me.

Humans, they were never for me,
may be I am made a human,
but not my soul,
so if I can't find my way to jungle,
and have to be confined in my room,
in this human world,
I better let my eyes pop out,
so they won't ever tear.

© XxStarwarexX