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a poem, dark, lonely and bloody I think |
Droplets of rain cascades across my lonely face Sorrow lies deep within my demonized soul Forgetfulness is caste aside and can not enter Melancholy rests within me, lethargic, greedy Yet, I can not anger myself into this wonderful emptiness Tears non-existent begs to exit, yet they stay silent Wonderful truths escape me, leaving me with naivety December winds whipped wildly around my silent figure The cold air stings me, robbing me of my own warmth The battle inside me is slowly dying, I’m losing I think I’m lost in the picture of perfection or obsession I’m losing in this world of beauty, perfection and fairytale There is no such thing is there? Is there no such thing as a fairytale or beauty? Is perfection ultimately doomed from the beginning Is their such a thing? I might never know, no, I won’t know Droplets of sleet is icy against my ski I no longer see the blue in front of me, calming me All I see now is grey, so sad and grey My gorgeous blue is gone, grey is all I see Is this the end of my suffering or rather is this the beginning Of my fortunate end? I wonder as snowflakes drift from the sky as it gently meets My red silent stream of tears fall, they fall so beautifully In this beautiful yet ugly world As innocent snowflakes meets with a river or my red A long stream of red blood |