Submissions by alissaxvanity

Every pretty rose has to have its thorns, but take them down
And you take away her pride and joy
Her voice, though once so sweet, is now full of scorn,
And while she is acting coy,
She has one hand inside her heel,
where she keeps the blade,
for old times sake

I cover up this empty space upon my page
But the ink bleeds right through me
With only a momentary solace

Knowing I could live but dream instead
Knowing I could be but I pretend
Knowing I could speak but I recite
Knowing I could soar

Every release is useless still
What depth is there to gain
When I, a hollow frame
Am deathly ill

When will I learn to fly?
Or would rather I
Stay in this empty page forever