Sick, sick world
When pain is the wielded tool,
fear the bandage…
wounds heal never…never
Scarred existence, buried in dark confines
cracks in the frame, a thin hopeless terror
Splintered nightmares pierce,
streets aren’t to be paved in souls…are they?
Hatred blooms in thorned gardens of poisonous vines
Blind eyes seek misdemeanor violations,
powered wigs white as frail skin
slam gavels on chalkboard slander
and drink their toast, burned in tea…burned
Burn in hell…burn,
singed of your own disgusting disguise
It is a sick, sick world,
spinning for some, leering at others
Claiming lives like junk yard fenders,
rotting in weathered worries,
cut and welded into another’s idea of life,
painted pretty colors, enameled disgrace
that sicken the stomach…shatters my heart
And still a star shines, fractured but glowing
shedding light to textured canvas
Inspiring beauty in another’s ink
crying watercolor tears in brushstroke wonder
shading edges so the past sleeps in it’s own nightmare
pieced together by friendship,
so tell me…why does my heart still break?
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
Sick, sick world
When pain is the wielded tool,
fear the bandage…
wounds heal never…never
Scarred existence, buried in dark confines
cracks in the frame, a thin hopeless terror
Splintered nightmares pierce,
streets aren’t to be paved in souls…are they?
Hatred blooms in thorned gardens of poisonous vines
Blind eyes seek misdemeanor violations,
powered wigs white as frail skin
slam gavels on chalkboard slander
and drink their toast, burned in tea…burned
Burn in hell…burn,
singed of your own disgusting disguise
It is a sick, sick world,
spinning for some, leering at others
Claiming lives like junk yard fenders,
rotting in weathered worries,
cut and welded into another’s idea of life,
painted pretty colors, enameled disgrace
that sicken the stomach…shatters my heart
And still a star shines, fractured but glowing
shedding light to textured canvas
Inspiring beauty in another’s ink
crying watercolor tears in brushstroke wonder
shading edges so the past sleeps in it’s own nightmare
pieced together by friendship,
so tell me…why does my heart still break?
