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So suddenly the storm breaks… With such disdain, the voices rage as crimson tears fall, so pure against the stark scream of a broken mind, finding belonging in a tide of shattered dreams, choking on the ashes of promise, an end that feels so near but never comes… Emphatic whispers in the silence as hate bubbles below the surface, obsessing trivialities that call for revenge on those that trespass against us, hollow apologies that appease the guilty hearts, too little, too late, crying in the solitude, for empty words are never enough… Chaos bleeds from the scars of emotion, unseen to the eye, oblivious to the dying soul, cutting so deep inside, evolved by compulsions that become absolute, a mistake to be made over and over and so fingertips gently caress the revolver’s cold metal surface, drawing it toward me… Life is a privilege to those with the courage to stay and live it, but that is not me… I am so alone, each day I disguise my thoughts behind a pompous smile as my mind crumbles a little more, blurring the boundary of reality, breaking my will to fight before an inquisition of pain… The way out is obvious, even to me… It is the beginning of the end, such grave thoughts in the midnight of my soul, my body covered in an abundance of fading scars like a map that draws a path that swiftly leads me here… to this moment… this place… this hour… pushing the barrel up under my chin, I close my eyes and………………………
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Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
The Beginning of the End...
So suddenly the storm breaks… With such disdain, the voices rage as crimson tears fall, so pure against the stark scream of a broken mind, finding belonging in a tide of shattered dreams, choking on the ashes of promise, an end that feels so near but never comes… Emphatic whispers in the silence as hate bubbles below the surface, obsessing trivialities that call for revenge on those that trespass against us, hollow apologies that appease the guilty hearts, too little, too late, crying in the solitude, for empty words are never enough… Chaos bleeds from the scars of emotion, unseen to the eye, oblivious to the dying soul, cutting so deep inside, evolved by compulsions that become absolute, a mistake to be made over and over and so fingertips gently caress the revolver’s cold metal surface, drawing it toward me… Life is a privilege to those with the courage to stay and live it, but that is not me… I am so alone, each day I disguise my thoughts behind a pompous smile as my mind crumbles a little more, blurring the boundary of reality, breaking my will to fight before an inquisition of pain… The way out is obvious, even to me… It is the beginning of the end, such grave thoughts in the midnight of my soul, my body covered in an abundance of fading scars like a map that draws a path that swiftly leads me here… to this moment… this place… this hour… pushing the barrel up under my chin, I close my eyes and………………………
To see a video of me performing this piece, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O81tlUiLB9E&feature;=relmfu
fritz-oskennick
Written by
Penarth, S. Wales
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
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