Wild winds pushed my hair back
I had no compass to keep me on track
The winter's cold has swallowed my legs
Through the wastes of snow;
World, may I be your scuffled window.
Dry air feeds my lungs.
Ice has taken over where I left my guns
Traveling night and day;
Through the dreams and throughout my soul
The road's path began with a hole.
There's no way to look back
Any distraction will throw you off track
Through the icy scapes of the heart;
I made this path on my own,
To turn it into frozen stone.
Fire.
Eyes.
Feeling. gone.
Freezing, but warm to the touch.
I thought I had pulled my heart through too much.
Now frozen in my own path.
Icicle beard man I am.
Frozen in place, my legs will not budge.
I went too far from the fire didn't I?
And now I know, I'll never make it back alive.
Sep 27, 2011
Sep 27, 2011 at 10:29 PM UTC
Wild winds pushed my hair back
I had no compass to keep me on track
The winter's cold has swallowed my legs
Through the wastes of snow;
World, may I be your scuffled window.
Dry air feeds my lungs.
Ice has taken over where I left my guns
Traveling night and day;
Through the dreams and throughout my soul
The road's path began with a hole.
There's no way to look back
Any distraction will throw you off track
Through the icy scapes of the heart;
I made this path on my own,
To turn it into frozen stone.
Fire.
Eyes.
Feeling. gone.
Freezing, but warm to the touch.
I thought I had pulled my heart through too much.
Now frozen in my own path.
Icicle beard man I am.
Frozen in place, my legs will not budge.
I went too far from the fire didn't I?
And now I know, I'll never make it back alive.
This poem marked a turning point in my style.
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