For so long, the blood in my dreams
Have been haunting my every day.
It's simple now, the writing, the breath from me
But in night in my cold sweat,
The dead awaken me.
Shaking me and taunting, I heard their former life.
Happiness.
So much expression.
Then, my hand would shake and linger
On the metaphorical picture frame,
Printed in a gruesome gloss
Were their eyes.
Staring into deep slumber ahead.
The slashing I had acted, presenting power, I was tricked,
This was not heroic.
Nor did I feel like justice had been fairly given.
Alas,
Foul play still dripped from my course.
Constantly silenced, the Elder demanded me,
I had no more expression.
I will tell a story, yes,
Of a man who once told I,
Be the better man, and so I ran,
As far as my corrupted heart could go on for.
Thrown back and forth, my emotions twirled,
Danced and beat themselves up,
Where was I to go?
I wanted to start a new life, that of a renewed man,
Unlike my old road I blindly stumbled,
Decision was chosen upon, to be good,
A taboo, where I formerly originated.
I had found my growing expression.
Since the sprint, of a true heart,
The window of sunlight shines bright on my face
Like that of redemption from a real sun god.
One that protects.
The days of acceptance grew on me,
And I struggled.
But I found that self forgiveness
Is one of the best moralities.
And for every daisy I gently nurture,
Every apple I pick from the branch,
And for every child I inspire,
I pray they subconsciously believe in me,
Build my positive aroma for all of those who see me,
And hope that the word gets passed on
To every unfortunate soul,
That the man that untimely battered them,
Is now on a journey
To restore your stolen expression.
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 8:52 AM UTC
For so long, the blood in my dreams
Have been haunting my every day.
It's simple now, the writing, the breath from me
But in night in my cold sweat,
The dead awaken me.
Shaking me and taunting, I heard their former life.
Happiness.
So much expression.
Then, my hand would shake and linger
On the metaphorical picture frame,
Printed in a gruesome gloss
Were their eyes.
Staring into deep slumber ahead.
The slashing I had acted, presenting power, I was tricked,
This was not heroic.
Nor did I feel like justice had been fairly given.
Alas,
Foul play still dripped from my course.
Constantly silenced, the Elder demanded me,
I had no more expression.
I will tell a story, yes,
Of a man who once told I,
Be the better man, and so I ran,
As far as my corrupted heart could go on for.
Thrown back and forth, my emotions twirled,
Danced and beat themselves up,
Where was I to go?
I wanted to start a new life, that of a renewed man,
Unlike my old road I blindly stumbled,
Decision was chosen upon, to be good,
A taboo, where I formerly originated.
I had found my growing expression.
Since the sprint, of a true heart,
The window of sunlight shines bright on my face
Like that of redemption from a real sun god.
One that protects.
The days of acceptance grew on me,
And I struggled.
But I found that self forgiveness
Is one of the best moralities.
And for every daisy I gently nurture,
Every apple I pick from the branch,
And for every child I inspire,
I pray they subconsciously believe in me,
Build my positive aroma for all of those who see me,
And hope that the word gets passed on
To every unfortunate soul,
That the man that untimely battered them,
Is now on a journey
To restore your stolen expression.
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