Seven Years of Bad Luck

Your benevolences are out of control.

The harder the declivity, the more muddled I become.

For quite some time I wore the perfect disguise,

You saw right through it,

you knew what I wanted to say all along.

I'm contended by the way you let me show it on my own.

I've got this sickness pounding in my head

I'm at the mercy of the ghosts.

How could I instill such hope but be left with none of my own.

How could I think of something so perfect with a man 

that has me mangled and torn down off of another.

I feel as sinful as a prisoner who has repented the murders he committed.

How could I express so much empathy with a man 

i've placed my lips upon for such a short time.

For months I felt worse than the walking dead

and now I am higher than the highest of angels.

Bitter Sweet the moments spent with you are.

If the world was to end, 

I would make sure I was placed in the crest of your chest

I'd kill to sing you to sleep, 

with the possibility of accomplishing that of one who never sleeps.

I'm not one to let someone hurt,

but in the in end,

someone always does.

Its killing, chilling even to think that one of us will

be broken like the glass with seven years of bad luck.

Treat it unpredictable.

Make love, but throw me like a rag doll.

And puncture my skin as if you're willing to let me

lie there forever.

No matter how bright the sun or moon, 

you have no shadow I could see.

The wish is for me to perceive something,

but, still I would find nothing.