I can feel this empty heart,
So cold and black and meek.
Atop a stoney heartless mountain,
With which I climb the peak.
Every step,
A further push,
A hope to find my light.
But as the nights grow colder still,
I must keep up this fight.
I can feel this empty heart,
It bellows cries of pain.
Affixed to stringent memories,
The kind that hurt and maim.
I hope to find my promise soon,
The ******* me was a buffoon,
To keep up such a follow through,
A final chance to continue to,
The one I call my light.
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 1:48 AM UTC
I can feel this empty heart,
So cold and black and meek.
Atop a stoney heartless mountain,
With which I climb the peak.
Every step,
A further push,
A hope to find my light.
But as the nights grow colder still,
I must keep up this fight.
I can feel this empty heart,
It bellows cries of pain.
Affixed to stringent memories,
The kind that hurt and maim.
I hope to find my promise soon,
The ******* me was a buffoon,
To keep up such a follow through,
A final chance to continue to,
The one I call my light.
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