Sunday, July 31, 2011

Speak

Every time I speak your name,
Or hear your voice Its still the same.
Because every time you come around,
I dig myself further in to the ground.

For what you feel is not a test,
Yet somehow your heart is always at rest.
I still get angry when you get near,
No matter what I hold you dear.

To this day you have no clue,
Who you are, or what it is you do.
Why it is that its so hard to speak to you,
For you have yet to learn how to be talked too.

Cause every time I speak your name,
Or hear your voice its still the same.
Because every time you come around,
I dig myself further and further in to the ground.
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Tuesday, July 5, 2011

View from within

A cracked window pane bleeds,
The wood holding it has died,
A shattered image of myself
Reflects through the misshapen pieces of glass.
I look down upon the desolate streets from my cluttered room.
The snowcovered grass yells for air,
Screaming that no one else can hear.
Tree tops stand bare and cold,
But don't say a word.
Dry Snow begins to pour from the thick mass up above.
My mind is torn,
While my mangled brain tries to process all the distorted information.
My heavy eyes begin to move. Everything is the way I remember it.
I go on to another day,
One of whom might be even more strange.
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