Saturday, October 29, 2011, 1:27:43 PM |
The Suicide Dream October 29, 2011 There's blood on the floor, A cold hand still leaning on the closed door, The echo of a painful shout still overcome, Imprinted in the empty sight, The image of a purpose that was too soon gone. Tangled bloody hair, Of a person that decided no more can bear, Tears like crystals still resting on the dead face, The soundtrack of a film, The scream of lost innocence, On a black and white screen. Suppressed words that cleaved a heart, Broken promises and lies, One more soul tore apart, A person drown in useless cries, Bloody, bruised wrist, The result of the decision - no more can go on like this. A peaceful grin, Of a person that in the ocean of despair couldn't anymore swim, Is frozen and distorted, A blade, a stain of blood, Life away has faded. Like in a dream, I see the bruised, dead face, I hear a scream, On the floor I see a bloody trace, Snippets of a jumble film. Another person broke down, Took away by the whirling waves of the suicide dream, Another person decided this world is maybe too grim, Another lost soul, a wasted life, Ended by the corrupter blade of a knife... |