|Untitled as of yet... (standard:poetry, 160 words)|
|Author: Hecate||Added: Jun 29 2004||Views/Reads: 2263/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|I can't really think of a description for it... you'll just have to see for yourself.|
I thought about death again, It seems this thought will never end. I thought about pain again, And the terrific suffering, whose strenth will pend. Until the day you leave your body And fly solo within your soul Towards that glorified light Only he can behold. I thought about all this wasted time That we spend here on Earth, And all this aimless wandering we must bear Until finding our place alongside the hearth I thought about slitting my wrists And watching my own blood drip to the ground. Would I be able to feel the pain? Could I, should I, make a sound? I thought about our pointless emotions, Misleading things that blur our senses, Stupid and useless feelings That tend to lead to wrong decisions. I thought about changing my ways, Or maybe putting this delimma to an eternal finish. Should I find the strength to defeat my ghosts, Or solve my problems by having my life deminish? Tweet
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