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 would die soon, or is she dead now In the beginning it was fun, now it’s different She has gone white, her honey tone skin n

 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