| » Poem: Falacate |
Falacate
written by Genocide Reaper07:43 AM 8/8/04| I'm just playing the drums listen.. I'm just twiddleing my thumbs. Of course, the source is here, Over the reason to this season, redemption is around the corner, and love is a lost Whore.. The only way to do something is all the way. I will, come to, be like the one I know so well. He'll be my end, and I'll be his trend. Although, we know each other. We won't be friends.. I had a simple question that was morphed into Guilt the cacoon for fate was set. Wrapped up in Pain. My life is surely, truely, fucking, honestly. A Stain. I am everything and More... The Secret Hysteric. Hard to say what I got. Insane sexy attraction. Cut my life into the wall, with Hormone Faults to Horrify. Crooked is the picture with a glass frame it sets before me I can see myself like a stain. I see my morbid Body crucified, sacraficed. Fixed and Faked. A falcate of Good ideals, and Bad actions. |
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Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
If you read it, you'll understand.
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| » Comments / Feedback | by London0rgy (8-8-2004 - 07:44 AM)
| Your poems are bruital I love them. You are a good writer. |
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