The Cynic Communtity

                       IDK WHAT’S THIS:       _miss A. FLOWERS OF FUNGUS ON THE UNDEAD -Glitch- She lies there, like ever, and can’t hear me ring the bell She lies there, aware of me, yet unaware of my entry Nor could she figure out my leaving, I guess, but she knows I am here, or I’ve been here, or I just left here But whenever she looks into my eyes, I don’t know What that is? Hatred, sympathy, pain, or vengeance For she lies here on the mercy of my own And I don’t know who I am to disagree Yet this little woman doesn’t know, Whose hands she had fallen on. Mercy? Beg dear! But she just won’t. The things that I bestow on her, why accept? Is that a challenge? I don’t get into this insight of torture But I guess you love pain yourself. Must be the reason why I can’t sense of the disgrace I cause No hint of any guilt. She...

 Where are you? -Miss_A I am uncertain, Uncertain about what I want, what I need The more I'm more uncertain, the more my mind clears out Waking up with a shock in the midnight And can't help myself to sleep My mind simply so nerve-wreaking Forcing me to walk out, midst my lazy lazy Something is not right, the breeze needs to be colder Alas, I don't even know what I am running away from The darkness of the night isn't pitch black, I'm hurt, this cloak of warmth that I'm not into I put my fav song on, volume the loudest Singing the words inside, or say screaming Every beat too distracting, too rough, yet too soft Until I'm myself a piece of creation of the voice itself Playing on repeat, not loud still I lay by my face and close my eyes, my world speeds up As if I'm in racing in fast cars, the air cutting me I sigh in disdain, it's here The cold wind, the pitch black darkness, the loudness Trying to distract mys...