um dont really know how to describe it


Wounded Pain

Longing stillness,
Blooms over hours to form days.
Would you like to know what a day is to me?
Steady pain forced outwards,
Blood written memories, stained and sodden,
Locked and barred, seeping hurt.
In a chest hollow enough to sense them,
Hear their voices whispering curses in truth.
Calling me to hell by pulling my strings,
I fight, I try, they persist, they pursue,
Murmuring blood curdling thoughts that break me.
They break me so hard I am no longer whole,
But a hole is left open an empty space.
This pain drags me down,
My blade cuts those strings but it's lost,
I'm bruised and urging death,
But nothing will cut those pretty strings.




Poetry by deathsdestiny
Read 452 times
Written on 2006-10-27 at 14:36

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la tristesse
i really liked this poem, particularly the line' i fight, i try...' as a clinical depressive, it sums up a lot for me.
2006-10-27