WolfyBoy
Registered user
Global user
Registered: 12-2003
Posts: 8
Karma: 0 (+0/-0)
|
|
Reply | Quote
|
|
poem.
His fingers lightly brushing the cold glass,
as he looks through a window to his life.
Frost forming around his finger tips,
as he remembers times of despair.
A second hand reaching forward, grasping desperatly,
as he trys to capture the few happy moments as they pass by.
Leaning forward, pushing against the glass,
as he hopes in vain that the glass would shatter.
Anger filling him, consuming him whole,
as he struggles to turn away.
Staying when he sees himself, his reflection standing infront of him,
as he whipes a solitairy tear from his icy cheek.
|
|
9/18/2004, 3:25 pm
|
Send Email to WolfyBoy
Send PM to WolfyBoy
|
WolfyBoy
Registered user
Global user
Registered: 12-2003
Posts: 8
Karma: 0 (+0/-0)
|
|
Reply | Quote
|
|
Re: poem.
The truth is a dagger
In one quick stab it comes to you
You catch your breath in your throat
As you wish for nothing more then for it to be over
And the excruciating pain is only the beginning
The air you gasp for is scarce
You wrap your arms around yourself for false comfort
But nothing you can do can stop your heart from bleeding
And your eyes shut in a mixture of pain and longing
As you let yourself fall
|
|
9/19/2004, 11:30 pm
|
Send Email to WolfyBoy
Send PM to WolfyBoy
|
