When will my last set of tears roll down my cheeks?
When will the sadness come out with the sobs?
When will all be calm and happy and good?
It all comes back to time.
It took time to get to the sadness.
And now it will take an eternity for it to dry out.

Unknowing, unaware.
Doesn't see, so it doesn't care.
Hanging up - Just like the bones,
Limp and lifeless and no one knows.
By the neck, the hanger holds;
Touched by the dark and growing cold.
The beauty gone, the color faded;
The fight is over, the survivor gave in.
Cursed by the mind, tainted by darkness,
Victim of everything, eyes dull and spark-less.
Nothing left, the coffin closes.
The door shuts early
                         On the Pink Sweater's Closet.

A poet isn't one to followeth the rules of poetry,
A poet's writing
Cometh from the soul;
And the soul hath none rule's....
Thus the word's from one
Art words of freedom...




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Mama said ''Don't trust boys they'll leave you with a broken heart.''
I said ''Yeah well that's alright I've been broken from the start.''

People get tired of you being sad, and then they leave, even when they promised they wouldn't.

She once played beautiful music but now she's just a broken record.