"Beautiful Poison"
The Butterfly and the Rose
Do not touch the butterfly. You can not hold him close,
for it will die, wither as a rose. And you can not grab the rose.
You would surely let it go, for the thorns are as sharp as knives,
they'll stick you to the bone.
And once the poison sets in, there's no turning back.
You're in it for life, like the wolf to his pack.
But if that butterfly should fly away, watch it go, as you stay.
And if that rose should start to fade, watch it fall, its petals betray.
Let the poison take affect, as you take your last breath,
for surely it feels like there's nothing left.
But if that butterfly, should it return, and another rose grow,
in the ashes that have burned,
then the poison shall pass, just open your eyes,
and once again you'll awake, to see the sun rise.
Torture
Is it me?
Is it my own vice?
Am I addicted to this torture?
No!
The answer is no.
I'm addicted to you.
Its you.
You're my vice,
A torture in itself.
~~~
Love is a Cancer
Just hand me the knife,
just give me the gun.
There's no point to hide,
no reason to run.
Everything is fine,
the damage is done.
I'll say goodbye.
You've already won.
Cut out the cancer,
watch it burn,
as soon as the air hits
it will take a turn for the worst,
he'll never learn,
and neither will I.
~~~
Paper-cut Kisses
A single thin line
etched in my skin.
Not even a centimeter long,
not even that deep in.
But the pain as it slices you open,
the little things can hurt so much,
its enough to make you bleed,
a paper-cut.
Simple, yet, extraordinary,
how a single piece of paper can do this.
Much like your love,
much like your kiss.
It cuts like a knife,
it burns and it stings.
Like small, little paper-cuts
all over me.
~~~
Love and Obsession
There's static at the door,
as you say your last goodbye.
There's no coming back,
no fixing it this time.
The damage has been done,
the fire has gone out,
no more excuses,
only simple doubts.
You can not persuade me.
You can not force me down.
I am not a helpless, little girl,
I will stand my ground.
I am stronger than you in will.
My addiction never strives.
Obsession when confused with love,
cuts like a knife.
Strangers
Stranger.
A stranger to me.
Yet, some how I feel,
Connected.
Like our two worlds apart,
are closer than you think.
The "what if's?" cloud my memory,
mere thoughts of what will never be.
Stranger.
I'm just a stranger to you.
No one you will ever meet,
not even in your dreams.
© 2010 Beautiful Garbage