Why do you darken my door once again?
What is it I've done
to deserve
this
e m p t y
s p a c e ?
To spite you,
I'll welcome you.
To scold you,
I'll embrace your cold.
shiver, shiver
Here you come again,
lancing at my dreams,
my hopes,
my visions,
all of which I want to capture on paper,
but all of which you turn out
like horses from a stable
into the wilderness beyond
the reach of my pen.
Desperate.
It is not your namesake, no;
neither is it mine.
It does not belong to the man who searches for wisdom,
to the girl who bleeds her fingers on typewriter keys.
O, desperation, make me a statue
that others may look upon my emptiness
and feel
whole.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
Why do you darken my door once again?
What is it I've done
to deserve
this
e m p t y
s p a c e ?
To spite you,
I'll welcome you.
To scold you,
I'll embrace your cold.
shiver, shiver
Here you come again,
lancing at my dreams,
my hopes,
my visions,
all of which I want to capture on paper,
but all of which you turn out
like horses from a stable
into the wilderness beyond
the reach of my pen.
Desperate.
It is not your namesake, no;
neither is it mine.
It does not belong to the man who searches for wisdom,
to the girl who bleeds her fingers on typewriter keys.
O, desperation, make me a statue
that others may look upon my emptiness
and feel
whole.
