This is a poem about something I have felt, not in such a terrific ammount as I describe, but I have seen the threshold. I am glad I did not cross, as glad as I am to not feel such things now.
the heavyness of your eyebrows
when your life is in a rut
Sorrow is so incredibly massive
so impossible to contain
when you feel sorrow
it always seems to rain
you never see the sun
and soon you forget
because you are sick
and dying
and wet
and when you remember
there is only regret
because you are sick
of life,
and ripped
ripped is the only way to describe you
when sorrow runs deep
deeper than your soul
that you struggle to keep
when you're falling down
trying to keep something gold
because you are sick
and rotten
and old
and when you land
there is nothing there
because you are sick
not human
no cares
~
yet you're only too much aware
with that blank and empty stare
never again
what was will not be
because you are you
and no other is thee
what you keep golden is only viewed from beneath
by those thats sorrow is to be never sheathed
the dead dust that flows in your tears
over all the countless soulless years
it covers
that wretched crust
slowly it wears
and away you rust
that which you are is consumed in your sorrow
and soon you will see no tomorrows.
Poetry by Andy
Read 1227 times
Written on 2006-07-19 at 23:09
Tags Sorrow Ache Cry
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Sorrow
Sorrow is the sourness in your gutthe heavyness of your eyebrows
when your life is in a rut
Sorrow is so incredibly massive
so impossible to contain
when you feel sorrow
it always seems to rain
you never see the sun
and soon you forget
because you are sick
and dying
and wet
and when you remember
there is only regret
because you are sick
of life,
and ripped
ripped is the only way to describe you
when sorrow runs deep
deeper than your soul
that you struggle to keep
when you're falling down
trying to keep something gold
because you are sick
and rotten
and old
and when you land
there is nothing there
because you are sick
not human
no cares
~
yet you're only too much aware
with that blank and empty stare
never again
what was will not be
because you are you
and no other is thee
what you keep golden is only viewed from beneath
by those thats sorrow is to be never sheathed
the dead dust that flows in your tears
over all the countless soulless years
it covers
that wretched crust
slowly it wears
and away you rust
that which you are is consumed in your sorrow
and soon you will see no tomorrows.
Poetry by Andy
Read 1227 times
Written on 2006-07-19 at 23:09
Tags Sorrow Ache Cry
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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Mitzi |
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Nora |
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liz munro |
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kittipuusen |
