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Array ( [sid] => 61903 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Cold Obsession Of Things That Are Dead [time] => 2004-08-30 11:09:37 [hometext] => is life a journey to death... or is it a pause between not being alive... [bodytext] => please forgive the sacred life
that was stolen in the night

forget the act which was commited
through the lies you must admit it

wrong was done in the right hand
i have disgraced the title of man

pride was what was believed in
proud enough to commit this sin

systems of guilt and tears are built
founded on cold minds filled

skeletal phantoms haunt the minds
passing through skulls, just cant hide

castles made of bodies imprison youth
forgetting life was without proof

rolling dice to see who lives
the gun is the only thing that gives

murder seems to be the latest game
serial killers gain their fame

embered winters scourch the lives
men are forfeiting their wives

so they survive the growing pain
causing blood to fall in the rain

the hunters choose their prey by praying
and the children die while theyre playing

red is the color of the sea
not from the ocean but dead bodies

puddles of blood fill the sinks of homes
the homeless are the sane while alone

sanity becomes money
those who think, are the only free

when all the earth becomes psychotic
it is the end that is it [comments] => 2 [counter] => 155 [topic] => 48 [informant] => abnormalpunk [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 2 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
The Cold Obsession Of Things That Are Dead

Contributed by abnormalpunk on Monday, 30th August 2004 @ 11:09:37 AM in AEST
Topic: EmotionalPoetry



please forgive the sacred life
that was stolen in the night

forget the act which was commited
through the lies you must admit it

wrong was done in the right hand
i have disgraced the title of man

pride was what was believed in
proud enough to commit this sin

systems of guilt and tears are built
founded on cold minds filled

skeletal phantoms haunt the minds
passing through skulls, just cant hide

castles made of bodies imprison youth
forgetting life was without proof

rolling dice to see who lives
the gun is the only thing that gives

murder seems to be the latest game
serial killers gain their fame

embered winters scourch the lives
men are forfeiting their wives

so they survive the growing pain
causing blood to fall in the rain

the hunters choose their prey by praying
and the children die while theyre playing

red is the color of the sea
not from the ocean but dead bodies

puddles of blood fill the sinks of homes
the homeless are the sane while alone

sanity becomes money
those who think, are the only free

when all the earth becomes psychotic
it is the end that is it




Copyright © abnormalpunk ... [ 2004-08-30 11:09:37]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: The Cold Obsession Of Things That Are Dead (User Rating: 1 )
by Flipped_out on Monday, 30th August 2004 @ 11:22:41 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Hey Jer, glad to see you again

wonderful feelings, great words, but i feel it tends to loose rythm a little towrds the end..

fantastique, j'aime cette poésie

Kelly x


Re: The Cold Obsession Of Things That Are Dead (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Monday, 30th August 2004 @ 11:42:30 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Nothing less than astounding. Excellent write!




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