I hurt myself today
to see if i still feel.
I focus on the pain,
the only thing thats real.
The needle tears a hole;
the old familiar sting,
try to kill it all away,
but I remember everything.
what have I become,
my sweetest friend?
Everyone i know,
goes away in the end,
and you could have it all:
my empire of dirt,
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt.
I wear this crown of thorns
upon my liars chair:
full of broken thoughts,
I cannot repair.
Beneath the stains of time,
the feelings dissapear.
You are someone else,
I am still right here.
What have I become,
my sweetest friend?
Everyone I know,
goes away in the end,
and you could have it all:
my empire of dirt.
I will let you down,
I will make you hurt.
If I could start again,
a million miles away,
I will keep myself,
I would find a way.
Comments
That was really sad, but determined in another way. I heard a different version of that poem.
I'll draw myself a picture,
I'll draw it with a twist.
I'll draw it with a razorblade,
I'll draw it with a twist.
And if I draw it right,
a red fountain will appear,
to wash away the sorrow,
to chase away the fear.
I was obssessed with that poem for the longest time.
No. I didn't know that it was for me. Thank you *sincerely*. I'll accept your empire of dirt and build you a castle.
♥