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Post by brandnewmessiah on Apr 27, 2007 8:28:50 GMT -6
Hollow as a soul now torn Just like I was being born Ripping flesh to cleanse the sin Hell is where I’ve always been Hiding in a life of shame Outcast because I bear your name Convinced that I’d never be Anything but mediocrity
I’ll thank the day I’ll see the sun Setting on the horizon Of this brand new dirty grave Which entombs a boy who can’t be saved
There’s no joy in lying in a pool someone else has already bled There’s no more denying that I was scarred by the things that you said I’m no longer trying to figure out what’s going on in your head Now I’m deciding that I’m destined to want to be dead
Suffered in a child’s fate Listed as something you hate Beaten every time I cried Wishing I will not survive Burying myself in my pain Taking drugs to keep me insane Closing off and giving up Praying that my eyes stay shut
I’ll whisper words that I’m okay So that everyone will just go away And let me bleed out all the years of fear And now I just can disappear
There’s no point in fighting when there is no way you can win The wall is filled with the writing this is where you are going and that is where you’ve been This is me describing that I’ve lived all the life I can take And now I am relying that I’m going to die before I wake
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Post by Sam on Apr 27, 2007 13:02:42 GMT -6
This one had me holding my breath!
Sam
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Post by anirbas on Apr 28, 2007 1:09:27 GMT -6
Sheesh! Drat! Slamming poeming, BNM!
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Post by Juan Castrocafe on Apr 28, 2007 23:15:36 GMT -6
tin man tin man, with or without heart, how do you begin man... everyone will have their day to die but the pain is not gone not and if you wake with no heartstrings perhaps this is freedom, not loss but liberation... and if you wake, there is always the forest to leave alone or level at your leisure always keep the oil close you're stronger than that perhaps this dream is rust captured on the steam tin man tin man you do not have to be the pawn in anyone's plan you never liked the lion though he was a coward you faced it all, stipped bare to the core perhaps your dreams could not stick to your ribs so they fell on the floor like some fish hauled on the side of a ship you are not some slave being torn with a whip and maybe fishbone dreams are the best choice as they stick to the throat though they might change your voice something might take root there where between fester and shine you have what you will what you will to call "mine"
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Post by anirbas on May 8, 2007 8:36:26 GMT -6
LW...this is a great piece, too...imho, you should title it and run it on it's own across the Dark board, too...hint...hint...hint....LOL... and when next you get the chance you simply must read the piece, Messiah did on children on the Love board...Chantal will love the piece, too...but drat if I can remember the title, offhand right now...will modify it into this post, if I can remember, too...LOL
waves to da Messiah and crew, Nir.
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