1991 was an interesting year. Nothing binds tighter than the ties of family. And memory.
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help
let’s see, let’s see
what ways to kill myself tonight?
this wretched life has broken me
in death I’ll shed my plight.
what of poisons?
still the beating of a tortured heart
from limb to limb, my life forever part.
razor slides on tired flesh
will bullets spill my blood so fresh?
help. help.
no salvation awaits me at the end
no more tears to shed on this hopeless land.
the angels weep and mourn a fallen soul
my path is chosen
my heart remains untold.
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Sleep
Sleep...
retreat into this womb of silence
to walk the darkened realms of myth.
hush - life slumbers on in winter dreams.
The waking world holds no charm for me.
I am you
you are me
We are one, yet...
we are none.
Blind hate. Cold fate.
Why wake to play the Game?
Why wake and bleed again?
Sleep.
The stars will dim for me this night
Let them weep, I care no longer.
farewell…
Goodnight!
Don the shroud of slumber…
They cannot touch me now.
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God, I hope my poetry's improved after 14 years.
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2 comments:
more importantly, i hope your view on life has improved, dear.
:*
Yes, spot darling, very depressing and end-of-the-road.
Still, I like them. You can already write very well then.
And oh yes, you have improved.
Cheers.
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