04/22/14
I want to talk to let you know But I see that you’re dealing, Barely that is, with your own shit I see it in your eyes, In the way you stand
A poem about rhyme A poem abou time What can you say About their little fray Thee is never time
The wind blows softly across the meadow carrying the whispers of tomorrow’s sorrows If you listen closely
Blood flow freely flow until i have no more to give Flow until you have
Who am I dark as night with soulless eyes Blood stained cloak and a hollow voice
“please sir” those are the only words I can say i don’t know
I can put on any outfit, any mask and fool the wisest of men
right or wrong it’s up to you each person has their own moral compass some people may
They come and go with us We see them nor hear them We feel them nor
i’m tired of being broken then put back together i’ve been broken
anger, pain, and sorrow raging inside yet seems so calm and collected
Every where around me i see happiness and joy yet i can’t join in The feeling of being dead inside
There is a girl dead in a corner Does anybody notice of corse not Do they know her
i’ve never met somebody who set my blood on fire quite like this with flames moving throughout my body
They always ask is the wight jacket comfy are the wight walls conferring And always I