A Story created from Albums and Lyrics, in which the Meanings are put away

                                      s t o r y o n e
My Jetpack Blues turned into Danger Days; so the Black Parade stopped long enough for the American Beauty/ American Psycho to pass by. For

Centuries, Helena was left unremembered by The Real World.

What does that mean?

I don't know.

I would Decode it, but I Don't Care.

This Is Gospel you won't listen to, for I Write Sins, Not Tragedies.

?Baby, won't you come my way?  

No, even if we were in F...... City.

The disloyal order of the water buffalo was corrected by us, the Heathens. The Alphabet Boy can play with his toys elsewhere=if I don't make it, I'll see him in Death Valley, where we're alive.)                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    If you wanted to know me, you would breathe me, but instead you whiff and start Playing God. Your Love is Wicked enough for me to stay away from the Cliff's Edge and find Another dirt who puts the I in Lie.

Look Alive, Sunshine (109 in the sky, but the pigs won't quit.) Temper Tantrums everytime will only get you to nowhere. It will leave you unloved, unwanted, all alone, until you have nowhere to go, til the Hope Of Morning is just another day Under The Knife for you. Yeah, think about your kids, they don't want you. Joke all you want, no one wants to hear how sorry you're not. Stay under arrest by that guilty conscience, no one wants to fix a broken record, drinking medicine til the doctors tell him "I never meant for you to fix yourself."                                                                                              

But, you know, if you calmed down for a moment, and asked about me for a moment, and loved me for just a moment, I would ask you to Please Give Me A Red Pen for my Pallette, and I would strangely paint you picture perfect, even if I were blinded.

You don't have to die, that is, even if you take my hand and remember tonight.

Tonight, when I placed on you a tourniquet,

returned to you your salvation,

and told reminded you that you're not alone.                      

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741