a wicked thought in some dark corner
of the illustrious mind
round and round it spins
in the the background of all the sunshine days
benith the surface of all the joyous times
for all thouse years
like a cancer of the soul
like an apocalypse of the madness inside the sane mind
i have walked to the edge of the abyss
i have looked the beast in his dead eye
felt his cold hand in my heart
and i knew him
iv seen this and know it holds nothing for me
she slips into the street
a shadow that walks in the bright sunlight
and prays as she walks for a happenstance of providence
but even to mortals
her lips are stained with a tiny traces of blood
she is seen as a culprit
she devolved into her separate parts
and she never was right afterwards
like a small doll stuck on broken
her every day
her everything is a razor blade to you
but she only hears a symphony of color
she only sees a tragedy of tears
all shes known was the rat race
she aspires to nothing more
a wicked thought in the darkness
and inspite of asking that it delay its maniacal desires
the illustrious mind bends in on itself
just because nobody can see
doesn't mean no-one knows
what is the hidden thing
of spirit and of mind
impossible nature of my being here
in this awful place
this dark harbor in shades of the unnatural misgivings
the crazy ones pace the room
in silent trek eyes nailed to floor
each step slowed by hungers of fortune
and the angst of regret
the impossible nature
of my being here is dictated by circumstance
by the romance of mistaking happenstance for providence
but i am making headway
at escaping
myself
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
a wicked thought in some dark corner
of the illustrious mind
round and round it spins
in the the background of all the sunshine days
benith the surface of all the joyous times
for all thouse years
like a cancer of the soul
like an apocalypse of the madness inside the sane mind
i have walked to the edge of the abyss
i have looked the beast in his dead eye
felt his cold hand in my heart
and i knew him
iv seen this and know it holds nothing for me
she slips into the street
a shadow that walks in the bright sunlight
and prays as she walks for a happenstance of providence
but even to mortals
her lips are stained with a tiny traces of blood
she is seen as a culprit
she devolved into her separate parts
and she never was right afterwards
like a small doll stuck on broken
her every day
her everything is a razor blade to you
but she only hears a symphony of color
she only sees a tragedy of tears
all shes known was the rat race
she aspires to nothing more
a wicked thought in the darkness
and inspite of asking that it delay its maniacal desires
the illustrious mind bends in on itself
just because nobody can see
doesn't mean no-one knows
what is the hidden thing
of spirit and of mind
impossible nature of my being here
in this awful place
this dark harbor in shades of the unnatural misgivings
the crazy ones pace the room
in silent trek eyes nailed to floor
each step slowed by hungers of fortune
and the angst of regret
the impossible nature
of my being here is dictated by circumstance
by the romance of mistaking happenstance for providence
but i am making headway
at escaping
myself
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