Black as black and red as red all the monsters live in my head not under the bed. I'd rather be watching scary movies instead but I always get stuck with black and red. Screaming please go back under my bed, back to not bringing me so much dread. Please stop making me feel so dead I don't want any more black and red.
Mom asks why I'm always alone why I never pick up the phone. What she doesn't know is I'm not alone, black and red they've had the throne. They have had the power every single painstaking hour. I don't know how many times ive shown that I don't live I just roam. A lifeless thing just skin and bone, with black and red right at home.
I have so many problems that I need to fix but I guess that's where black and red get their kicks, they always seem to be playing tricks, while time goes by tic tic tic. Time is an Alie they turn to real quick sped up or slowed down to that trick they stick. Time is there friend and is quite a - picked at they start always there in a tic.
Black is dark reminds me of night, at least in the night I don't have to fight. The night is my friend and has little light, beautiful and lit but not to bright. Black however is quite the fright try as I might black always keeps me up at night. I wish It was painful just to put it in sight. Black is not painful not even slight black is empty, cruel and always been right.
Red is that person I here in my mind. The demon inside that I can always find. His best friend just happened to be time. He's the man in the mirror who speaks in ryme. These riddles I hear no one else seems to mind. Knowing I know there made to be mine wishing for once he's just be kind.
Red and black they come in a pack. A box in your brain no return written on the back. They yell and scream with violent attacks. Creativity the never seem to lack. On and on they keep me off track. Iv always wished they'd just grab a sack get up and leave not even pack, walk out the door never come back.
But they never do, they remain in my mind I wish it wasn't true. I tried to silence them but that choice I rue. For now they make my life more than just blue. Ten times worse the I once knew. Hoping and praying for them to be through. Making life hell is just what they do.
Black as black and red as red the bloody rose that blooms in my head. It never dies cause I'm not dead. It makes life hell and I want to stay in bed, all thanks to the bloody rose that grows in my head.
