Egocentric

Not in the fate of all but one, 
crys for power that she had string,
while in the words of hurt and pain,
she set them off and made me rain.

Her painful jabs and spiteful lies,
became rivers flowing from my lonly eyes,
the eyes of me who always crys,
a disterbed mind who yerns for peace,
always shaken out from underneith.

The only hope held in empy dreams,
dreams that simply let me sleep,
escaped from one terror to the next, 
prayed on by those who know me best.

When your only hope is to be at ease,
the life you live is incomplete,
for i am only one who wants,
the simple life without scares and haunts,
a stable life and only calm,
but she would never think to know,
that the demons she sends come out at dawn.

Maybe im to sensitive,
walls breaking easy; ice too thin,
or maybe my life is worth more then this,
not in her book, 
but books are stories made for fun,
I just try and inclue mine with more then one