truestoners

If my roses are love,
and my violets are pain,
no flower could help,
my heart that is stained.

I wish I could hold you in my arms,
and grab you tightly by your hips,
because no flower could ever help me,
besides your two lips.

— 

David Tyler Roush

As he sits in the shadows,
Watching people on the street,
He hopes for a friend,
A good person to meet.

Because he feels so alone,
The darkness is all over,
For his sanity is drifting,
As he tries to stay sober.

For he is drunk on her love,
And he turned into a addict.
Going through withdrawals,
Love is just my bad habit.

Don’t ask me, I am not okay.