|The More Things Change (standard:poetry, 226 words)|
|Author: Finn McKool||Added: May 14 2003||Views/Reads: 1666/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Whether faith or love, the hardest part is the silence. Not knowing whether you are believing in something or someone worth the time and pain. But even the downfalls are magnificent.|
Part of being a true believer Is talking into a dead reciever And keep hoping you are heard. I'm waiting for all this faith to deliver. For warm arms to stop the shivers Or at least one true and hopeful word. But all I've got's doubts and excuses Death silent time and a hand of deuces But that's better than aces and eights And no matter how good it seems It seems it's still all just dreams Bedroom fancies, heart ache and long waits I tell you how much I bleed What I want, and what I need I give you dusty secrets from under my bed. But all I seem to get are stalls Mysterious answers and occasional phone calls. Which stir the hope and neuroses inside my head. This poem ain't no revolution It ain't no ultimatum or solution Just a confession of drowning man. I just need an absolution, or some hope Or just an answer, or how 'bout some rope? Because the silence is getting more than I can stand. But I'm an old campaigner in this kind of war. I know this dance, and I know this floor. So I can take a few more steps. Because maybe hope's my drug of choice And maybe heart ache's my true voice Because the more I give the more I seem to get. Tweet
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