Lonely Candle-LightIt seems no where is safe, I am surrounded by demons, And all I have in a candle, It's warm glow held in my hand, Glistening in their bloodthirsty eyes, Teeth a tint of red, Yet I will not extinguish my light, To see the monsters no more, Would ease my troubled mind, But they would still exist, Breathing down my neck, At least with the candle flame, I see them as they see me, Their grotesque images burning my mind. With my candle I am strong, And with my will, I cannot fall again.Lonely Candle-Light
Decomposition of the SoulBecome everything I want, Time and time again, Everything I know turns to ash, Moisture ripped away with invisible flame, Fill my heart with darkness, Lit with the torches of a thousand eyes, Awaiting the moment I'm no longer watching, To come and rip out my soul. But I know, That my brace keeps me tied to this spot, Here i cannot run away, Escape can only be found through death, Ease my troubled mind, Tolerate the everlasting blows to my mind, Let my spirit remain in pieces, So that I cannot be broken further, My words speak for only one, OnDecomposition of the Soul
What It Means To Me...as I look into the glass, my finger prints are burning away. behind the glass is my memory, lost from my grasp, in a place where i cannot tred. heat radiates from my heart, slowly consuming my spirit, turning my inside into ashes. my reflection slowly melts, I'm losing the battle.What It Means To Me...
help me to turn this around, your eyes will cool my heart. destroy the demons that lurk around me, tell me everything will be alright, maybe then it might.
I see what i cannot grasp, the good times that have gone. why are things so different now?
Beyond the HorizonAs I lay on the fabric of a dream, My mind escapes the shackles of reality, When my body lays cold and still, I find the place where I want to be. Forever in the hold of imagination, Lost in the thoughts of only myself, Solitary yet so fulfilled in space, That a warm ecstasy will fill my mind. Leave me and watch me be still, Say nothing and your eyes will tell all. Witness the warmth of my body grow weak, As it drains into my thoughts. Here time does not affect matter, Maintain your stare for eternity, As I slowly drift from consciousness. My sensationsBeyond the Horizon
Broken glassTransparent shards, discarded bliss All rest on blackened ground Until one day the little miss Her death appointment found.Broken glass
The trees all wept their flowery tears To mourn her tragic death And to hide the scarred remains That reeked of cruelty’s breath
Her tiny heart, a wilted rose Then cried out in remorse For how could life be so unkind To taint her fated course
“Little Miss I love you so Yet together we cannot be For as long as we are both alive Please… would you die before me?”
That FeelingEver had the feeling:That Feeling
Your brain is sleeping. Your heart stopped beating.
Your soul is tired,
Your body bleeding.
Death is a sweet memory Life is ebbing, let me be. I hate the world, It hates me Hard to be here, Hard to be.
Hate the sun Love the rain. Want to give, Long to gain.
You're just an empty, rattling shell. Wandering 'round, Bid farewell.
Ever had the feeling: Your brain is sleeping. Your heart stopped beating. Your soul is tired, Your body bleeding.
Rock
LossCaught in time,Loss
As life slips by, Like waves upon the sea shore, I stand in the sand,
Afraid to let the water touch my feet, Because I might get swept up in the current, And taken away from my memories of you.
Watching the rain fall from my window, Longing to fall with it, To twirl in the drops of water, And forget myself in the chilled air and darkening sky.
Tears drip from my longing eyes, Like frothy waves and sprinkles of rain, So wet, and pure.
To fall like rain, and be swept away by the current, To nowhere, to somewhere, to
Just Thoughts...
Hope
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I
~sweetclub
eh well.
Thanks for the fav
--
After all, can the pencil lay claim to the artwork, or the keyboard hold rights to the poetry?
How then may man declare the workings of God as his own?
Myself, I am but a tool in the greater work of art that is this world of God's.
What's shaking?
Oh, and welcome to DA.
Although on that note, I swear I've seen you somewhere before.....
Left the last one in the abyss??
Ah ha, I'm so clever...
--
After all, can the pencil lay claim to the artwork, or the keyboard hold rights to the poetry?
How then may man declare the workings of God as his own?
Myself, I am but a tool in the greater work of art that is this world of God's.
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