On a sunrise as in a thought.
We are lost for choices become hollow as
the smile becomes a mask.
Shackles cut into flesh trikles down the wrist
traces of the remains of what never shall be.
In a morbid sense i respect the empty hours
and cherish this isolation like mistress
that wait's for my return.
Flesh for canvas painting's in tone's no longer
a direction slowley we drift.
Taken from the scene another will always replace.
As a wheel has no end the start is a mystery
none care to solve.
Why mask reason when insanity we share?
Whom will erase my page?
Only to recreate my line.
Im headed for that slow decline.
In delusion I exist as in darkness
I fade.
A scroll none can see.
A vision seldom shared.
To gasp for air is to strangle apon
life the empty words crash to collect dust
in my cluttred life's floor.
Jan 21, 2011
Jan 21, 2011 at 3:16 PM UTC
On a sunrise as in a thought.
We are lost for choices become hollow as
the smile becomes a mask.
Shackles cut into flesh trikles down the wrist
traces of the remains of what never shall be.
In a morbid sense i respect the empty hours
and cherish this isolation like mistress
that wait's for my return.
Flesh for canvas painting's in tone's no longer
a direction slowley we drift.
Taken from the scene another will always replace.
As a wheel has no end the start is a mystery
none care to solve.
Why mask reason when insanity we share?
Whom will erase my page?
Only to recreate my line.
Im headed for that slow decline.
In delusion I exist as in darkness
I fade.
A scroll none can see.
A vision seldom shared.
To gasp for air is to strangle apon
life the empty words crash to collect dust
in my cluttred life's floor.