This could be brilliant,
but the static electricity is eating me,
the cause to the storm is unknown,
and there's poison leaking from your veins,
A story so raw,
Behind the green eyes that gave this world a name,
So bare, so open,
It's breathtaking--
--In the literal sense of the form.
This writing spills like word *****
The peircing cold is lonely;
but the burning bridges sting,
And it's all we've ever known,
to **** to hurt, to succeed,
...and to love.
But to run?
My feet can only take me so fast,
and I've learned to give up that past.
The vast unknown I only call home,
The mixed signals and mixed drinks have brought me here,
And I can't shake this feeling,
I am a paradox myself
And no one can know the whole of me.
This anticdote of fables,
My treasure chest filled with lies,
My heart is the bare, lonely story,
And only the pen can console me.
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 1:35 AM UTC
This could be brilliant,
but the static electricity is eating me,
the cause to the storm is unknown,
and there's poison leaking from your veins,
A story so raw,
Behind the green eyes that gave this world a name,
So bare, so open,
It's breathtaking--
--In the literal sense of the form.
This writing spills like word *****
The peircing cold is lonely;
but the burning bridges sting,
And it's all we've ever known,
to **** to hurt, to succeed,
...and to love.
But to run?
My feet can only take me so fast,
and I've learned to give up that past.
The vast unknown I only call home,
The mixed signals and mixed drinks have brought me here,
And I can't shake this feeling,
I am a paradox myself
And no one can know the whole of me.
This anticdote of fables,
My treasure chest filled with lies,
My heart is the bare, lonely story,
And only the pen can console me.
