Pretty, pretty

He’s a razor blade, marmalade,

Snake bite, lemonade,
Pretty, pretty Ken doll,
Who throws you like a ball.

He’ll cut you up, buttercup,

Butcher you, and love it too,
Ask you pretty, pretty please,
And bring you to your pretty knees.

He’s a monster, daydream,

Candy killer, supreme,
Pretty, pretty beautiful,
And pretty, pretty mean.

He’ll chew you up, kiss it better,

Cut you with a sweet love letter,
Say pretty, pretty nothings to you,
And give you pretty bruises too.

He’s a narcissist with pretty eyes,

Abuser, twisting candy lies,
Pretty, pretty on the skin,
But pretty rotten deep within.

??? (Can’t think of a non-edgy title)

mourn not the day the body dies,
a shell’s not worth tears.
you loved only a ghost of life,
the soul’s been dead for years.

don’t shed a tear for what you lost,

for it was never really yours.
the heart belonged to death alone,
you loved a breathing corpse.
Moonchild
Poetry's dead, go back to bed,
Today’s been cancelled, say goodbye.
Black tar is pouring in my head.
The moon is hiding, so am I.

The streets are full of empty beings,

Grayed out by time from bones to tie.
Forgotten dreams and muffled feelings,
The moon is mourning, so am I.

A drop of poison in my cup,

I drink for hours with a sigh.
People ask me what is up
The moon is dying, so am I.

Sand
I walk along the shore with a shovel in my hand.
But below me is sugar instead of golen sand.
And my shovel is a spoon grasped tightly in my hand.
Tempting me to dig a hole into this crystal land.

My Room
My room, with the bolted lock,
A safe haven or cell block.
A single key opens the door,
For me only and no more.
No windows here, the walls are black,
A hidden shelter from attack.
No enemies or strangers’ eyes,
No friends near to hear my cries.
My wooden door, a barricade,
This loneliness, a serenade,
To walls covered in gentle art,
In my room locked like my heart.

A Haiku
Haikus are
Crap, they make no sense
Poems rhyme