|
I don't remember white tears of happiness,
only black streams of grief are on my mind,
stains dripping to my feet forever onward,
life weighs heavy on my existence,
come to be here who knew I'd be alone,
not even hell, could be like this.
Never was there a moment when I laughed,
except for shining times of lost sanity,
a place where my mind not always resides,
and not even it brings comfort anymore.
All I wanted was a chance to cry,
for some one to hold and to care,
alas I've escaped all reality,
my fictional existence is all there is,
no reason to the thoughts I have,
no rationale to the way I behave,
thus society around me looks distant,
not caring for anything I've become.
Please take this sullen timber,
cut from the forest of agony,
and build me a house in which to live,
alone out here in a place to call my own.
carve me a bloody mantle,
on which to lay my heart,
to rest my weary ashses,
a home for the chalice that could be,
a vessel for poison from which I drink,
and just maybe it would quench my life for me.
bereft of all but my dignity,
a pride that can't hold anymore,
my legs collapse as the life around me,
all the forest burns and dies,
stars come falling to the ground,
cinders of the firmament pile high,
this is the world to me.
I saw a ghost walk through my yard,
his shadow was as tall as mine,
dragging chains several meters long,
scraping the ground with his dried feet,
and whaling for the pain to go away,
I know for sure that time is a cycle,
and that someday I will be walking in this yard.
|
