I'm too old to die
i'm shallow, as a identity.
i'm deep, as a shade.
i hide myself within layers
of human flesh and seek
for the truth...
which seem to be just
another lie.
there is, pale faces
on the other side.
blaim the puppets for
what you seen, and
shall not see.
all this mystic eyes with knowledge
i never understad, so many days of
shallow glances at blue,
my memories is wandering away from me.
She couldn't cry on the
midnight of her fathers wrath.
She couldn't cry on the
funeral of her mother's
rosen-cheek.
it's still silly to die.
shaken-away edges of a
torn dream, a note towards
the beginning. -as they wrote.
bleeding water from a
fake wound.
a laughter from the sad clown.
couldn't i have been more.
hidden, i'm weak, so weak.
needing support to breathe.
needing to be watered to cry.
along cats wild trail, beyond.
the green-men get tortured
to a eternal death.
heavier!, Heavier than the
burden of lightness.
if i bore the light,
burn the clouds, so i can see.
She is me.
He is me.
i am...
what i ever can be.
i'm too old to die.
Poetry by asshole
Read 703 times
Written on 2007-12-17 at 18:55
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