*The voices in my head scream my story,
A story lost, a story beyond my memory.
It stays there, yet nothing sleeps in its arms,
A memory retold, yet forgotten unharmed.
It speaks of longing, it speaks of desire,
It then sheds tears for a lonely liar.
Nothing then stretches to the sunrise of reality,
The lunacy bleeds at the strike of sanity.*
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 4:59 AM UTC
*The voices in my head scream my story,
A story lost, a story beyond my memory.
It stays there, yet nothing sleeps in its arms,
A memory retold, yet forgotten unharmed.
It speaks of longing, it speaks of desire,
It then sheds tears for a lonely liar.
Nothing then stretches to the sunrise of reality,
The lunacy bleeds at the strike of sanity.*
Request permission to use this poem