Your new side was fake
And covered in all the rust you need
To start a war.

There were springs sticking out
From holes in the mattress
The night you told me
I was void of form.

It must haunt you now
To think that I'm such a good abstraction.

Lacrimosa,
Lacrimosa...

My dear,
I'd prefer to sing alone.

To think of you washed
In all the colors falling
Like Whistler's Rocket
So far below the moon...

I cry away any sanctity
Placed upon me in my youth.

When I am stricken
With all the words
Uttered over the silence
Of our modern, beautiful
Communication...

I will fall silent.

I will fall still.

I will be quiet,
But I will be swift,
And I will be void of mercy
To all but myself.

It's too cloudy tonight, to see the sky,
and in this dark I want to die.
And oh my god that voice is back,
pointing out all that I lack.
Why on earth am I still here?
I've had no purpose for nigh on a year.

What is the price
Thou wouldst payeth for love;
Ask thyself that
And if thou wouldst payeth the price in blood.



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

It's impossible for me
to walk into the road I cannot see
and the road where I want to move ahead to
is the one that only leads me closer to you

It's hurts to know that you are gone,
and now every word I say is wrong,
I can't even be your friend,
I just wish that it would end.

Part of me wants to take my secrets back,
and let the blood bleed onto black,
but I promised I'd never do that to you,
so here I am. Trying not to.