I pick you up,
To let you down,
I spin you,
Round and round and round.
I give you happiness,
And joy,
But then you find,
You were just a toy.
I take away,
All your fears,
But whisper phobias,
In your ear.
I give you life,
A reason to live,
But really,
It's not mine to give.
Your feedback helps Platypus understand what's working
Lines ever more unclear, Not sure I'm even here...
Your life, a sheet of paper, And death, a raging fire, That turns to ash the words you write, And scripts, anew, a liar.
Erratic orthodox, bright and grey, A pandemonium of the day, A simple white lie of the norm, Preludes the black ice to the storm.
Life is like walking on a razorblade. One slip and your split in two, persecuted for things you didn't even think to do.
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