It's not that we're better because we are not
Sometimes love is served better cold instead of hot
So nine out of ten it's mostly me
I don't always take it so easily
So I looked back on my track and I see right where I went wrong
And I apologize I looked into your eyes and turned your heart to stone
It's not that I'm different I'm just a little scared
As you lay there crying you never knew I cared
And why would you want me I'm stained
No one will make you carry the blame
My heart is empty there's only tears
And you'll be long gone before the smoke clears
It's not that I love you my words don't come out right
I was just somebody that got to stand on your light
Yeah I look back on my track and I see right where I went wrong
And I apologize I looked into your eyes and I turned your heart to stone
Ten-year Randi Clay
Just moved into town -
The town of Fear Street,
Where horror pulls you down.
Enormous, gigantic calendars
She sees, hung on her street
On October 10th is marked
In red - ‘The Birth of Pete.’
She makes new friends at school,
And likewise - enemies too,
Who seemed to keep on saying,
‘Beware – He’ll get you! ’
Whenever asked “Who’s Pete?”
The children turned too pale,
But at last, quite surprisingly,
They began to tell the tale:-
"There was a boy called Pete,
A normal 12 – year old,
Until one day he fell so ill,
And caught a horrid cold.
Alas! One day he died,
And was buried in his grave,
They thought it was the end of Pete,
Grumpy, dull, but brave.
But right from that very year,
Pete gets up on the tenth,
And enters into other kids,
For using up their strength.
It is now an annual tradition
Of playing Hide and Shriek -
Whoever Pete makes ‘IT’
Is the new one from that week.
Randi, the risk for you is
Too real - Heaven forbid.
You’re new to Town Fear Street -
AND PETE DOES LIKE A NEW KID."
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Based off the idea from an R.L Stine book
Staid by sweet suggestion
and guileless of mounting truth,
this fellow suffering ~ remorse
is played upon ~ uncouth!
The goading fills my pastime
no more the anvil's muse,
but lawless, hastened by-line
indoctrinating lose!
My stand is only wait ~ Thine
Oh cherished friend removed,
what keeps thy prison recline,
what keeps my prayer from proved!
Oh action, I am inclined
to fade ~ helpless, aloof,
while victimizing bends stine,
and drinks my scant reprove!
The cruel heart ~ the grapevine
of melancholy's move
has decimated true pine
of love in newness groove!
Oh soul, dark eyes, some splice of time
I walked you through, thee Art, divine.
Not sense I knew thee - really mine
'til him, 'til Thee - together!
Oh Art - my sureness sees not line
without acquitting falsehood's sign.
I see Thee - as all Truth sees hind
and acts announcing - "I decline!"
- forsaken, robbed of stine.
No celebration fares my climb
but to awaken, sullen whine.
To mourning - that my love, not thine
has so of storming only mind
and as thy closeness lost, unkind
has stolen all, but hope to fine,
no tears beset me more than bind
to cry, to cry, to cry - thee find
does pile up, like a tree's incline
to drop its dressing - dropping mine!
A counter blessing, yet resign
Oh loving's lost, I mourn Thee thine
that sadness peril rests consigned -
No ending - ending - ending time!