We Can Promise.

You think I'm losing sight of the big picture, but I'm not. When Spike had that chip, it was like having him in a muzzle. It was wrong. You can't beat evil by doing evil. I know that.

For a second,
I was confused.

For a second,
I doubted my feelings,
and my ability.

For a second,
I was afraid that I wasn't good enough.

But the thing is,
I was wrong.

You told me,
You gave me,
You let me hold onto
the strength I needed
and was afraid I had lost.

You gave me the affirmation
that you wanted me there,
more than others,
you wanted me.

Not the pretty girl,
Not the outspoken girl,
Not the one that has found herself.

You wanted none of the above.

And the thing is,
I want it.

We all want it.

More than those
who can have it,
we want it.

So please,
listen,
and give us a chance.

Because it's all we're asking you,
Because all we want is to spend our final days
working on something so amazing.

And when it finally happens,
you will never regret it.

Wyndam-Pryce

Whatever is causing the Joan Collins 'tude, deal with it. Embrace the pain, spank your inner moppet, whatever, but get over it. 'Cause pretty soon you're not even gonna have the loser friends you've got now.

M'darling,
give me a moment,
let me spell it out for you,
and let you see,
for real this time,
and let you see the truth

Don't you see,
there's nothing to forgive,
as you did no wrong,
as have I,
I knew I wanted a second path,
and I chose to walk away.

It's nobody's fault,
we made a deal
to end our pain,
because we were friends
from the very beginning,

I realised that we were only friends,
because it would be inconvenient not to be.

Maybe I was right,
and maybe I was wrong,
I may have made a mistake,
but whether I did or didn't,
I moved on.

And I wouldn't talk about me forgetting,
because I can't remember
half the things I did
the day before.

It's painful,
and it's hard,
but it's life.

And the thing is,
if I could relive the moments once again,
I'd never want anything to change.

Feels Like Tonight

What you did, was necessary, what I've always admired, you chose what to do with little difficulty,
because you placed your heart above all else.

It was the animosity,
the fear,
and the lion,
who seemed to come,
time after time,

when I least expected,
when I was at my lowest.

It is from the windows,
from which souls were made visible.
Windows all around me.

It is from the mumblings,
and all such meaningless,
lowly tunes.

I believed that I had found my happiness
and forgotten all the pain and sorrow.

But it was there,
lurking,
waiting,
like a gentleman,
only acting when the time was right.

How do I trust,
when my paramours are haunting me,
with the secrets,
and gossips.

How do I feel,
when I'm in a cage,
no light,
no freedom as such,
and I cannot move forward,
not because you're holding me back,
but because I choose to stand beside you.

I miss the talks.
The laughter.

but that's all we really had.

and I hate it.

I hate that it's so hard,
because all I want is to feel,
not the cheap thrill of roller coasters,
50 feet in the air,
but the emotional high and lows
that everyone talks about.

I hate that I try hard to make you understand,
and you don't even give me your 2-cents worth.

I hate that my fingers are less fluid,
for in the past,
I would be able to type
and type some more.

And you let me see,
you asked me to,
and I'm glad you did,
you reminded me about what I wrote to you,
a little more than a month ago,
and I remembered all the love that I received,
and all the love that I gave.

I am my own person,
there isn't a way to make this complicated,
because it is what it is,
simple.

I choose my own destiny,
and path my own road.

And I will become a better person,
not for your eyes,
but for my own.

Purple Poker

Because when he breaks in and starts hacking you up with his machete, your screams will wake me up, and then I'll be able to escape.

I'm satisfied,
with my life.

I don't have the sick and twisted problems,
but there's a lack of something,
as if I could only be who I am
when I wasn't happy.

Lyrics came and went through my head,
like blood pumping.

And once more,
and maybe forever,
I will be empty,
silent,
shuttered and dank,
without passion and without dreams.

Will I go on like this?
I'm I good at being depressed?
Does that make me a better person?

and am I going to change just because
I can't write like before,
or nothing cool comes out of my head,

No.
That's retarded.

Do you think I'm happy about it,
not having my books filled with words,

Now,
if you can do what I used to,
on a daily,
no, on a regular basis,
then tell me what you think.

I'm trying.

The 2 and the Conjoined

I said shut the hell up.

Can it be simple?

Can you tell me numbers,
like you did before?

Can you hold my hand,
like when we ran to the dance floor?

Can you get a razor,
or don't,
I'll be fine with anything.

Can you make me laugh,
like the time when the country girl wasn't famous yet.

Can it be simple,
or is it just too much to ask?