Saturday, March 28, 2009

And the poet died....

Originally written on Wednesday, March 12, 2008 at 11:45pm

Sometimes the world will explode right before our very eyes.
Much like the shattered glass lying astray on a cold winter night.
Like the soul that laments for itself to find salvation among despair
How the worm wiggles its way to the certain death that awaits above
And the aeon's that never come no matter how long we wait
So that the despair doesn't consume us with a shadow that waits
Or for the hours that we spend trying to mend broken hearts
Because we still keep all the tears bottled up inside and....
we take them out only when we sleep at night,
Wake up and put on our brave faces..... so that we can face the world again.

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