well... i think it's the face of depression.. but i'm not sure..
and organic barbed-wire.
spit out pain, sip dirty water.
toasted as a modern
prophecy, she's gettin
burned by the shades of
crimson.
she wanted something
deeper and darker.
fearing her last word would
be her first, every word
seem to be insanity in this
land.
Well, well i can cut the rope
for you, but the next time he
will cut your throat, cutting
the last ropes attached to
reality. she made a modern
thing, took her life.
Messiah's dying, bleeding
internal, her soul got cut.
an paper cut, well well,
where she once wielded
her sword, she now stand
wounded, i dont know fear
that sword of graphite melted
in her anorectic shaking hand
it's too late to cry.
she found her friends by
the graveyard, she wrote her
last words in blood on a
ruin wall.
too blurred for me to see..
the sweat of knowledge
sippering out her angel skin
because she taught and
learned, this would be a
tough time.
crying out every last tear
again and again..
tomorrow today and yesterday
would be just an illusion
Release me..
seduced by pills and
antidepressants to keep
believe in this fantasy, well
how low would you sink?
how high would you fly?
breathe one last time and
take a long breathe.
she would cry and smile
mechanically, as the electrical
chock came to her head
gettin abused by the many eyes
and ears, she felt pain...
bleed... bleed..
stuck in her own apathy she
felt happiness, hallucinations..
well, it's common...
striving for the end, it was the
beginning,
why are they punishing me?
cigarette burns on her arms, legs
she seen, she kept, she still saw
the devil sat down closer to her
seducing her with razorblade
argumentation... they united in a
last fandango along her arms..
as the razor gave another cut.
spinal fluids rain down her spine.
like worms in the ground, waiting
to see, moth queen flying back
to where she came from a field
of beauty, it never was.
a spider web forming its shadow
along her body the eggs is hatching
rivers of blood, forming a wide
red ocean, red river flow flow flow...
the voices we're quiet for a while
she tough the marks had released
the evil spirits inside, as the pain had
gone away, which they plagued so
many years, so many scars ago...
conspiring in the dark of her long
lost memories they took her identity
they where just avatars of her....
she smiled.
a schizophrenic angel rides with the
cowboy angels in heaven, she aren't
like them, she say,
she aren't here she say..
but will not let the words touch the
ground she forms them as marks on
her bare soul, she know she must die
but only she seems to know...
it only she who can see the truth..
nobody believed.
in this world of plastic hearts and
rubber souls..
her eyes haven't yet adjusted to the shine
of light.
she wasn't yours and you wasn't hers.
as she cried an another illusion.
a bullet touch her membrane.
as the wall behind her formed a face.
a schizophrenic angel scratching her
nails against the stone wall repetedly
gettin rejected, her hands bloody she
tries to find a door out of this place...
inside this hollow heart.
a red colored face formed on the wall
behind her, nobody ever saw her again.
Poetry by asshole
Read 444 times
Written on 2007-03-25 at 22:25
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Schizophrenic angel
She lies wrapped in dreamsand organic barbed-wire.
spit out pain, sip dirty water.
toasted as a modern
prophecy, she's gettin
burned by the shades of
crimson.
she wanted something
deeper and darker.
fearing her last word would
be her first, every word
seem to be insanity in this
land.
Well, well i can cut the rope
for you, but the next time he
will cut your throat, cutting
the last ropes attached to
reality. she made a modern
thing, took her life.
Messiah's dying, bleeding
internal, her soul got cut.
an paper cut, well well,
where she once wielded
her sword, she now stand
wounded, i dont know fear
that sword of graphite melted
in her anorectic shaking hand
it's too late to cry.
she found her friends by
the graveyard, she wrote her
last words in blood on a
ruin wall.
too blurred for me to see..
the sweat of knowledge
sippering out her angel skin
because she taught and
learned, this would be a
tough time.
crying out every last tear
again and again..
tomorrow today and yesterday
would be just an illusion
Release me..
seduced by pills and
antidepressants to keep
believe in this fantasy, well
how low would you sink?
how high would you fly?
breathe one last time and
take a long breathe.
she would cry and smile
mechanically, as the electrical
chock came to her head
gettin abused by the many eyes
and ears, she felt pain...
bleed... bleed..
stuck in her own apathy she
felt happiness, hallucinations..
well, it's common...
striving for the end, it was the
beginning,
why are they punishing me?
cigarette burns on her arms, legs
she seen, she kept, she still saw
the devil sat down closer to her
seducing her with razorblade
argumentation... they united in a
last fandango along her arms..
as the razor gave another cut.
spinal fluids rain down her spine.
like worms in the ground, waiting
to see, moth queen flying back
to where she came from a field
of beauty, it never was.
a spider web forming its shadow
along her body the eggs is hatching
rivers of blood, forming a wide
red ocean, red river flow flow flow...
the voices we're quiet for a while
she tough the marks had released
the evil spirits inside, as the pain had
gone away, which they plagued so
many years, so many scars ago...
conspiring in the dark of her long
lost memories they took her identity
they where just avatars of her....
she smiled.
a schizophrenic angel rides with the
cowboy angels in heaven, she aren't
like them, she say,
she aren't here she say..
but will not let the words touch the
ground she forms them as marks on
her bare soul, she know she must die
but only she seems to know...
it only she who can see the truth..
nobody believed.
in this world of plastic hearts and
rubber souls..
her eyes haven't yet adjusted to the shine
of light.
she wasn't yours and you wasn't hers.
as she cried an another illusion.
a bullet touch her membrane.
as the wall behind her formed a face.
a schizophrenic angel scratching her
nails against the stone wall repetedly
gettin rejected, her hands bloody she
tries to find a door out of this place...
inside this hollow heart.
a red colored face formed on the wall
behind her, nobody ever saw her again.
Poetry by asshole
Read 444 times
Written on 2007-03-25 at 22:25
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
