She wants to be a star
She wants the fame but can't afford the time climbing up the ladder
So the stars is what she's after
She'll tell you that time is the Being hidden inside Death's cloak
She's on prescription but who am I to tell her stop
The glitz and glamour is a selfish human ambition on the other side of the the mirror
Because stars rain from the sky and burn up because they weren't able to fufill the dream
Maybe because we only gave only half a loaf
We offer it as a sacrifice

You said you want a guy who can take you place
The promises of modeling deals from strangers
Who are Wolves trying to sound like sheep
How pitiful

But I wanted a different star
I wanted the West kind of star
I wanted a ***** dish kind of actress
With body measurements that screamed gorgeous everytime time I lay my eyes on you
With hazel blues eyes to match her description
Can't believe the iris determines the color of the beautiful blue ocean that God has gifted you with
With a bust size of 112cm
Just like Solomon,I'm wise enough to give praise for every part I consider gold
Rose Gold is the type of flower I would pick
If we had to measure up to our perfection l wouldn't stand a chance
Cause she's 5 ft 5 / 165 in cm
She so beautiful that they pay her to do ***** dishes
All I wanted was a Libra,
Just to see if I can connect with the stars

The butterfly lay on the ground
Fluttering and screaming
Someone had hit it
With their big machines
Knocking it to the ground
With her babies nearby
Someone with no heart
Someone who took no pride in life
She couldn’t tell me her pleas
I couldn’t understand her agony
She was in pain I could see
Distressed little one
Delicate we had to be
Got her wings straight
She will fly again
Hope she repairs fully
She looks worn but still pretty
How could anyone just leave it
Still alive or not
From here or not
Rich or not
Speaking the same tongue or not
Is the conscience dead
Or are some just not born with one?

And I wonder
Whether I am
A good person or
A bad person

I wish no harm in anybody
Yet I have caused harm to them

And I live with the guilt
Of my conscience
Of the sin of a betrayal

And despite the efforts to do good
Am I going to be stuck making mistakes that hurt people

If so..it would be easier
For everyone If
I cease to exist

But that would be running away

I cry blood-soaked tears,
My soul writhes in agony,
As my arms touch you.
I am merely a human,
A spectrum of emotion.

To whom shall I owe-
My own rationality?
My experience?
To feel and even not feel,
I own my conscience, my name.

He wondered—
the mode of perdition’s redress.

No need of brimstone;
sufficient are memories;
clear,
insistent,
convicting.