All peering eyes and judgemental minds
(order) ghost child. two girls gone. compensation and forgetfullness.
overindulgence and the want(ing) for everything perfect and beautiful. and how i've let myself down, how everyone else has let me down, how i have let them down in return (in this manner, so on and so forth).
everything is a circle, beauty links to ugliness and hatred links to love. stay in the center of the circle-storm and there's nirvana.
"i'd rather be hated for who i am than loved for who i am not"
but kurt, its relative. you know that. you knew that destruction was creation and that dying wasn't scary. i know courtney didn't kill you. even if she pulled the trigger she didn't kill you. from the mouths of babes with silver and lighting tongues came the truth and at least you were far away enough not to hurt, she shouldn't have showed you. i shouldn't have put it here. ghost child, with the painting in the closet. two closets, two paintings, two tongues in cheeks wagging nervously at the question: is she me? is a part of me her? what went wrong? and always in the forefront of my mind is the picture of you and me on the steps, you in your summer shorts and me in my barettes. tongue in cheek, painting in the closet, always close to tears, always wanting some semblance of it back.
overindulgence and the want(ing) for everything perfect and beautiful. and how i've let myself down, how everyone else has let me down, how i have let them down in return (in this manner, so on and so forth).
everything is a circle, beauty links to ugliness and hatred links to love. stay in the center of the circle-storm and there's nirvana.
"i'd rather be hated for who i am than loved for who i am not"
but kurt, its relative. you know that. you knew that destruction was creation and that dying wasn't scary. i know courtney didn't kill you. even if she pulled the trigger she didn't kill you. from the mouths of babes with silver and lighting tongues came the truth and at least you were far away enough not to hurt, she shouldn't have showed you. i shouldn't have put it here. ghost child, with the painting in the closet. two closets, two paintings, two tongues in cheeks wagging nervously at the question: is she me? is a part of me her? what went wrong? and always in the forefront of my mind is the picture of you and me on the steps, you in your summer shorts and me in my barettes. tongue in cheek, painting in the closet, always close to tears, always wanting some semblance of it back.