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Jan 2010
Lying here in loneliness,
A fakeness only me,
To know the pain beyond the face,
Of all the people see,
You cry to me an unknown source,
To tell is not a crime,
Think of it as symphony,
A phrase behind the rhyme,
The whispers that are in my ears,
An unforgiving lie,
For everything I touch and see,
They will and always die,
So whisper me sweet sorrows,
To an unforgiving place,
Help to find a dismal mask,
To put upon my face,
I’ll cry to you  my story of a cold,
And rotten pain,
And you will be my final tomb, my forever pending rain,
And let the eyes of crimson flow,
To all the people see,
My eyes will know reflection,
Of all that life will be,
Either that of cold or a sadness,
Yet unnamed,
You see it now to cold and small,
And broken to be shamed,
So cut my wrists and bleed,
My blood for angels all to see,
And pin me up in crucifix,                                                                                                                                                    For all we do decree,
And whisper me sweet sorrows,
To an unforgiving place,
Help to find a dismal mask,
To put upon my face,
I’ll cry to you my story of a cold,
And rotten pain,
And you will be my final tomb, my forever pending rain.
Written by
Sam Guthrie
633
   Lady D'Los
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