MsQtPieDAppleBooty's blog: "Feelin Creative"

NO REST FOR THE WICKED No rest for the wicked My eyes are bloodshot The world lays down, But I am up - Doing things that must be done. Creating silent havoc, Running a mock. Insomnia is my curse, But I do not care, I have found the center of my fear. “Every bad has a good,” Society is blinded by rules. What I do is a must, Yet I am hunted by fools. What I dream, I cannot gain, For if I sleep, many will be slain. The world revolves on pain.

NO MERCY, NO REGRETS It’s your fault I’m six feet under, You damned motherfucker! I entrusted you with life, And you misused it. Now I’m back - Time to eat your shit. Through walls I go, Woe will you know. The eternal nightmare in which I exist - I know not the word bliss. I clench my fists to the cold of death. May God have no mercy on your soul, No regrets. It’s too late to repent, You did what you meant. I’m your angel of death You slept with the devil for a golden fleece, Now you’ll never rest in peace.

OLD RUSTY BLADE I was bleeding profusely on the bathroom floor All this pain and anguish, I couldn’t take it anymore. I tried to be good, and perfect But nothing was ever good enough. So what if I came back late, So what if I hate? So what if l do the things I like - Nothing’s ever good enough. Curled in a corner, in a cold dark place The walls are closing in, Tears roll down my face. Then I remember, I’m in my room. A self-created prison Made of nothing but sin. I have to break away soon. Soon as in here, soon as in now. There’s no place but up, Freedom through an old rusty blade. With this old rusty blade, I slice away the painful memories That run through my veins. Everything’s quiet, I’m almost gone. My vision is blurred, I can’t feel my toes. It’s too late to stop My time has come. I fade away - Forgotten and gone.

MEANINGLESS EXISTENCE Trapped, Hopelessly trapped. Unwanted, Rejected by all. Needing to be loved, But disdainfully disregarded - Everyone’s busy. Alone, No one there to hear me cry. No one saying “Dry your eyes” Pain, Deeply troubled. No one to talk to - ‘Cause everyone’s busy. There’s no peace in solitude, It only come through my music. They alone understand my complexity. They don’t even know I exist - They’re obviously busy. One cares, But we are separated by miles. One claims to care, Only after a serious blow to his ego. Another claims to care, About one thing in particular. They aren’t here - They’re busy.