Neverland

The subconcious can be a terrible thing It searches your minds for the deepest of dreams It searches for all your very best wishes And grants you them no matter how ficticious It also finds the scariest fears The ones that you hear and just scream with plugged ears It can sometimes show you what you want to see And other times what you dread after your prayers and pleas When you wake up you wish you'd never fallen asleep But after hours of crying, you realize sleep your mind keeps People come and ask if alright You need no attention so you reply positively than sigh You wish that you could answer truthfully And you remember your dream of cruelity You continue to move on and think your ok Life gets hard when you continue this way Keeping others out to live in the dark Was one of the worse things in my life I can mark I see that your friends, your sister is there To comfort you every time that you're scared Please I'd wish you'd soon sleep better I as

Stop expecting Cause I'll disappoint you Stop asking I'll forget Stop wanting I'm not trustworthy  This no good sloppiness Is all you're gonna get  I hear them screaming in my head Time and time again SHOT Turn and look SHOT Running to it SHOT Turn around Don't hang my head? Don't hang my head.  Don't hang my head.  WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOURE HANGING ME BY THE HEAD that's ok I think I'll stay here I'll stay right here I'll sit down just so I can hear You sound like a horse that barfed a crap ton of beer I'll stay here It's uncomfortable  My hands searching My eyes racing My heart... Beating  And meanwhile we are being defeated Pushed down and knocked out We're taking the beating We're losing the race They search, shoot, and destroy He's looking at me He's looking at me He's not He's busy Stop expecting I'll disappoint you

This old journal sits in my attic It's worn and the pages are a thick off-white paper The top right corner of the cover is a little rounded from wear The spirals that hold the pages are crooked The cover is green It's a dark forest green, just like the one you like And the writing is like my feather Now back to the attic; There's a medium sized window separated in the middle It faces the front of the house: east The shades that cover the window are slanted down So that the light of the moon shines down On the little stool That the journal rests upon And the sun never shows it any color Except the most brilliant orange Like when you write in yours And you're just about to hit publish So this book has stored up all of this moon light And the brilliant orange sunrise light And it saved it in the pages And like a dry watercolor painting That you rest a wet brush on The color bursts through it And it comes alive Every time you open the pages But it