Worlds Always Dividing
Accordingly... I just want you to know:
It's not the very dark that scares me
Or the loneliness of approaching old...
Even the thought of your regection
Doesn't leave me completely cold.
Murderer with bad intent
Best friend with anger pent
Closed room with no vent
Last breath with time unspent,
No, no... none of this matters
Against the awesome, frightening powers
That are known as stupidity and lack-of-care.
In my short time,
I've come to realize...
That the bored way people speak to me is all true.
Damn it!
Is there anyone who truely loves me? Do my parents just use me as a trophy
to show their family and friends?
And, to this world,
Are there really any ends
to the gaping cavern
that is pain?
Slipping
Slipping
Sliding...
Worlds always
dividing.
Loss of breath-
I can not breathe!
Something holding
me
down...
Try to rise,
But I've found...
A great, big problem holding me down...
I've completely looped;
Fuck!
I've lost my sense of touch...
I've lost my train of thought
Don't remember where I got
that one fresh breath
that didn't last...
I'm running out of air fast!
But no one cares but my eyes,
no one listens but my paper,
no one notices but this pen.
It's the carelessness I despise,
the nonchalant glance your give her.
Yes, yes. Here, I've already been.
And I'm so sorry,
but too proud to apologize.
And I'll forgive you,
but won't accept any more lies.
Straighten up,
Grab my hand!
I'm quickly sinking
into quick-sand:
Middle of a desert of obsticles
and no ones around.
I question if you question me
because you really care or you
need a quick fix of hope.
I can not cope
With this depression...
It's so unlike me,
that in this blind storm
I see mirages of life,
so I'm not torn.
I swear, I'm not love-lorn...
I feel no scorn...
Always wish I was born...
Lies, lies
Take me away
Lies, lies
Like a wolf when it cries
In vain...
You feel it's pain...
Your kindness has all been in vain.
But, underneath, you'd never know that,
that, TOO, is a lie!
It was just for show...
All just for show,
Which IS vain.
Just like your control of the rain...
It has all been in vain.
I have never been to Spain.
Do I write all of this in vain?
Poetry
Home