velvet-moonshine

Interest and Tax And all things chargeable In the Age of the rechargeable Rabbit and phone, I-pod and home. Is it any wonder we sound like drones? From clones of an era Of Katie Prices or Kate Mosses All eager to please our Fifty-Shaded bosses In their bulging trousers From their Hard- earned money. Oh, this price-tagged life, goes by in a flurry.

Beneath the shade my beauty lies Full of blackened butterflies Dancing their way through skin and soul And here I watch as we grow old. Fearful age, let me be, Fearful age, let me sleep Among some potion, a sap of sorts that restores my beauty, Restores my truth. For this image is foreign to me- I am not what, before me, I see In this painful glass that's shattered me. Fearful age, let me be, Fearful age, let me sleep Among some potion, a sap of sorts that restores my beauty, Restores my truth.

Trudging through the streets of the proletariat I felt the weight of the Iron Fist pushing me ever back. My forward stride still fervently fighting, Whilst Communist-chill was stinging, biting, Pushing me ever, ever Back. Forward was not allowed. Not good to feel proud In this plateaux of equal measure. Now grey the streets, grey the skies, Grey where there once lay treasure. As a wife possessed by jealousy's thunder, C did not want me to wistfully wander Into goals, and hopes and dreams That were beyond her ever restricting reach. I was an 'equal'- More like a mouse- Something not to be heard or seen. Asunder,I sank Into the masses' s

It's a tad contagious This Shyness affliction- But it lacks some Oomph! Some real conviction!! There's little to be said When you hang your head And hope to be unnoticed. You can bow all you want And twiddle your thumbs But you're the one who will be... forgotten. So, HOLD YOU HEAD HIGH!! Palms stretched to the sky! And reach for something new- An unknown territory, Something frightening Something... Out of the Blue.

I now have wrinkles round my eyes- Those same crinkles when I cry. But to knife and needle I shall not succumb- I will not become Another One. For they cut and they sew and they screw you up To an approximate version of 'what you want'. But You no longer are. Never will be again. All because of Society's Pen.

Hear the sound of the falling rain- Pitter, patter, Pitter, patter. Hear the children's crying game- Fitter! Fatter! Fitter! Fatter! Don't let yourself become undone By their idea of 'harmless fun'. For you, my dear, were made to shine, Not hide behind their torturous lies. ... Pitter patter, Pitter patter- The sad rain falls as the child scatters.

Why do you worry? Why do you care? Everyday you sit and Stare. At a life which offers nothing but hate- It is a life that you yourself create. Why not change a little? Why not see All the wonderous things that you could be? I tell you this because it's true, Not to smother or flatter you. But because you truly shine- I can see it in those sparkling eyes, For they don't lie, They don't hide, They show me as you are inside- That burning light that yearns to escape From the terrible life that you create. That spirit That soul That unknown element. Set them free By letting your true self be.