| » Poem: This Never Had A Title |
This Never Had A Title
written by SuperBob03:11 AM 6/29/04| The dreams, the nights in the dark...alone. The visions, the desires...alone. The want, the need...alone. Alone was what had to be reached. Alone. So alone, so confused...this isn't right. So abandonned, so lost...this isn't right. So dazed, so impaired...this isn't right. This isn't right because nothing is working. This isn't right. The style, the mode...fix it all. The reasons, the thoughts...fix it all. The means for it, the flame in the eyes...fix it all. Fix it all for it is all broken. Fix it all. Don't forget to check the books, don't forget to make the mark...remember the sorrow. Don't forget to find the exit, don't forget to surpress the pain...remember the sorrow. Don't forget when it got difficult, don't forget the times of unrest...remember the sorrow. Remember the sorrow of when the minutes wouldn't pass. Remember the sorrow. The pain would grow, the stinging would surmount...the cuts that ease. The times of troubles, the times of optimism...the cuts that ease. The way of the world, the way of society...the cuts that ease. The cuts that ease the loss of the mind. The cuts that ease. When the memories return, when the mind won't die...the clock ticks on. When the media corrupts, when the situations won't leave...the clock ticks on. When the sun goes down, when the bird flies the nest...the clock ticks on. The clock ticks throughout the days of apathy. The clock ticks on. Will the looks die down, will the legs still walk...will the scars subside? Will the clock ever break, will the bird ever be shot...will the scars subside? Will the judgement be right, will the minority be over thrown...will the scars subside? Will the scars subside when the scent of formaldehyde become the new perfume? Will the scars subside? Why it isn't appreciated, why it won't be accepted...it was all symbolic. Why it is looked down upon, why it is said to be wrong...it was all symbolic. Why it doesn't grow up, why the birds always sing...it was all symbolic. It was all symbolic when the cuts were engraved. It was all symbolic. The blood, the horror...cherish it. The feel, the touch...cherish it. The betrayal, the abandonment...cherish it. Cherish it when the scars are forever. Cherish it. The marks, the lies...forever is a long time. The tests, the games...forever is a long time. The making, the burning...forever is a long time. Forever is a long time when that is all there is. Forever is a long time. Then the birds won't fly, then the children won't scream...break the pact. Then the calendar won't be changed, then the week will cease...break the pact. The moon won |
All (c)Copyrights reserved by the Original Author.
Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
just a bit of a story i was trying write...its kinda long...two pages actually so this was the part where i was able to do it well...or atleast so i am told...i would go on with the rest but u'd get bored
[ View SuperBob's Profile ] [ Go to the Poetry Portal ]
This Poem has been viewed 370 times
|
|
|
|
