Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jun 2015 E n i g m a
Brie
Gogh
 Jun 2015 E n i g m a
Brie
The sky is burst with colors
Showing the vortex of heaven

The sunflowers are dead
Before she showed you how to catch

The meadows look divine
When the wind brushes the tip of peonies

Your face is wrinkles
From your never ending war with your madness

The church is only a place where you speak your grace
Before you gave it the meaning of your painting

I think your beautiful mind can never be defined
For people will never see who we really are
 Jun 2015 E n i g m a
Leila
Sublime
 Jun 2015 E n i g m a
Leila
I wonder what i'll have learned
by the time I meet my death..
Will every second have counted,
or only the last breath?
Money is nothing to the departed.
And when the day is done and gone,
nobody finishes like they started.
What can I take if i can't carry it physically.
And where do I go when i am dead?
Out of all the lessons i've learned
can I remember any without a head?
Am I nothing or everything,
as I walk on earth in the flesh?
I am living everyday wondering,
if i'm just elements among the rest.
Tho I believe in heart-something like soul,
and against this there is no contest.
The wealthy don't have diamonds and gold,
but in wisdom they are blessed.
So I take pride in what I know,
and explore with the curiosity of a child.
I'm trying to ****** the days,
and overcome the wiles.
There must be more to discover,
cause how will the stars continue to shine?
After the morning I don't wake to another,
will I see a divine sun rise in the other side?
The end might be years away,
but it's always lurking near by.
It might even happen today,
or right now, or within the hour.
I don't know and I don't want to,
Some answers are as the thorns of a flower,
some knowledge must be felt or experienced.
There must be some greater objective.
With all I sought I found what best did,
put what's important into perspective.
Things that can never fall apart,
and that i will no longer let be neglected.
Cause i've found the truth in my heart,
I am a soul being perfected.
A passion for disinterest
eats all of my attention.
I used to think that I was stuck,
it turns out I'm the rut.
Habits bent on breaking me
have overtaken lately:
Today I am a pessimist,
so what?

Pretty young degenerate,
you've hardly even even started,
yet your shameful self-involvement
blunts the cries of those you've cut.
The ego that had shaped
your deconstructed mind was make-believe
and, turns out, quite the narcissist:
now what?

— The End —