Is honesty allowed?

Or is it only allowed when it doesn’t make others frown?

Is it only allowed if it doesn’t destroy the King’s crown?

Have I ever told a lie?

Can you tell that I am ready to die?

Unclench your pearls

Death is apart of our world

Making it artistic means collaborating with the underworld

If I am an artist, I am mad

If I am a woman, I am sad

In reality, I am angry and full of hostility not meant for a lady

What does that make me?

Why do I have to stick to love?

Because I am attractive?

Is love the only thing allowed to keep readers captive?

From me to me:

I want to scream until my lungs bleed

I want to run until my feet steam

I want to jump in the arms of a real dream

The only dream that matters to me

Being free; coloring my own butterfly wings

Like a veil lifting

I do not care if they do not “get” me

Or that my words are less pretty

My happiness is being able to express that I am guilty

That I can be unhealthy in my thinking

That I believe most do not love me

They only love that I am funny

Am I allowed to say I do not love them back?

Am I afraid to admit those same people are the ones holding me back?

Of course, the most high strengthens my back

But, at my lows I feel the most comfortable

I feel the safest watching my world crumble

Why that look?

Do you not want me to share my troubles?

I need to empty my clip of sorrows; I will never wait until tomorrow!

It is now or never due to our time being borrowed