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Published: 2006-01-30 08:58:45 +0000 UTC; Views: 198; Favourites: 2; Downloads: 38
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Description
Almost facelessin this visions
so constant
to silently pick
at ones' self
this longing for
purity
Almost drives you
mad
as you continue
to dig
this lack of consistency
just seems to
push us even farther so
almost to the point
that everything only seems to split
and our climax will surely
drive us completely
and utterly
tragic.
our lines will swing
and completely collapse
yet with this reflection
in front of us
hardly anyone
will match
with so little
of a change
we may cover
so very
very
much
but without
a single doubt
we'll eat ourselves alive.
because this
long struggle
is naught one
of outward malice
but one of inner
security
this fucking shroud
we struggle against
our great war
was never
anything more than
the metaphorical
temples of
ourselves
to look into
those eyes
ever so silent
in this mirror;
I am nearly faceless
in the gaze of he.
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Comments: 6
gottlay [2006-01-31 07:02:07 +0000 UTC]
i really like.... this poem is a bit tragic, too, and holds thought-provoking honesty
👍: 0 ⏩: 1
moogleBdead In reply to gottlay [2006-04-07 18:33:55 +0000 UTC]
why thank you.
I always try and put some ideas in there that people would be able to apply to themselves, but I know that I ment every bit of it to myself lol
👍: 0 ⏩: 0

























