I transpose a verse in perfect harmony.
Specks of self-loathing fall from pitch and pattern.
Words backfire, break, and delude,
Into nothing more than a harmony.
I break apart a God complex larger than myself,
But still find I am the root of an apathetic religion.
I am broken, brittle, taut, but untaught,
I am nothing more than myself.
I speak to ears from days of lore.
I send for memories ago.
Passages forgotten, buried, and bruised,
Forgotten with the word of your.
Sep 14, 2011
Sep 14, 2011 at 11:22 PM UTC
I transpose a verse in perfect harmony.
Specks of self-loathing fall from pitch and pattern.
Words backfire, break, and delude,
Into nothing more than a harmony.
I break apart a God complex larger than myself,
But still find I am the root of an apathetic religion.
I am broken, brittle, taut, but untaught,
I am nothing more than myself.
I speak to ears from days of lore.
I send for memories ago.
Passages forgotten, buried, and bruised,
Forgotten with the word of your.
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