“He opened her cages, and freed the things inside.”

She was simple. Like a poem, and always dressed in sunshine.

She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.

A lot of ugly people hide behind beautiful eyes. A lot of things are only lies.

I never drink in the morning. Mornings are for drugs.

She could be anything. But she’s just a girl with a broken heart.

It’s funny how love fades, and they become more than a poem about yesterday.

Late nights. Poetry. Cigarettes. and a wounded heart, trying to forget you.

She’s like a jar of butterflies, waiting to be opened.

Sometimes I wonder if these rain soaked shoes will get me home.

She wanted romance. I just wanted to fuck the stars out of her eyes.

Women are beautiful. But some are made of hell.

This heart. It’s broke. I don’t want it anymore.

Romance is a dream. I can get better shit at the liquor store.

With her, the world becomes art.

I hated you. and you hated me. But we called it love.

Love lives. and dies. as fast as butterflies.

A prayer for the wild at heart kept in cages.

Marriage is like a cage; one sees the birds outside desperate to get in, and those inside equally desperate to get out.

It takes a long time to dissolve the bars of a mental cage.

Most of us still caged within careers chosen for us by our not entirely worldly 18-22 year old selves.

People only get really interesting when they start to rattle the bars of their cages.

You drew a bird that was here, a kind of sweet chanticleer. But with a terrible fear that the cage couldn’t tame

Birds are not free since Men have invented cages.

Bird cage is nice only when it is empty!