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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:38:04 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 44049
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Saga
[time] => 2004-04-20 13:25:38
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Sit alone in your emotionaless room, all bare without color with exception of a bloodstained white bed. Blood pours out of your wrists, and as you try to rasp out your final words, you find you cant because the convulsions have taken over your brain and your throat, the empty bloodstained bottle lies by your soon to be lifeless hand, and as you stare at the slowly disapearing celing you can only ask yourself this, WHO AM I, WHAT AM I DOING HERE, HELLO MY NAME IS DEATH, HELLO MY NAME IS DEATH, AND MY BLADE IS MY WITNESS, HELLO MY NAME IS DEATH, AND MY BLADE IS MY WITNESS, HELLO MY NAME IS DEATH, AND MY BLADE IS MY WITNESS... The shadows creep along the walls, The spiders make their nest oblivious, Of this old and restless figure, A wax model melting in the light, So many memories have passed, So many memories yet to exist Look into his eyes, And see the life which is a lie, A ***** Joke from a lost life, A bleeding heart encased in Ice As a child nobody loved him, As a child they tortured him With custom made remarks, About body, mind and soul, They tortured him by touching him, By feeling his scared lifeless body But the past is all grey, Finished and completed, Abusive father is deleted, Dying family fading away, Memory of perverts passed, Claiming place in history, Now is the past Never the present, Yesterday is the future, Tommorow is the present, And everything the future promises, Is more pain and self-mutilation, And as the sky bleeds away from sight, The cuts keep growing deeper, This expressionate mind meets his end, All the faces of past, meet their end, All the ***** lies, meet their end Everything is fake, Nothing is real This is my life in two sylabols; Screw this And as the body bleeds on the mattras, silent and still alone, the sky begins to disapear, and so does his life, as oblivion comes closer, and self awarness begins to fade, this life is dissapearing, this life is going to end, and the sad thing about this final painting made from skin and blood, is that nobody ever cared, and darkness consumes him whole as he gives his self to ashes [comments] => 4 [counter] => 376 [topic] => 48 [informant] => alecfernadez [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 301 [ratings] => 61 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
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