Turned time into memory, even though
We're mere stardust, a nature's game known,
Some mud dolls assembled from memories
Rising out of muddy waters, further into miseries.
The lucky get turned into literature, even though
One could never own another, never theirs to hold
Thus I shiver, sigh from bitter truths unspoken
Like the thoughts bleeding on this page, feelings unwroken.
The cursed turn into lonesome riders, coming from war,
With poetry in their eyes, and frightful things a smile can hide,
Their infinite pain undying, caging a beast inside
Not dead, only sleeping, awaiting to come alive.
Some are born to resist, others would die to abuse
Fear nothing more now, nobody's ours to lose.
Even if sometimes hell is other people,
What one sees might be a reflection, a projected sequel.
Some mud dolls assembled from memories
Rising out of muddy waters, further into miseries.
The lucky get turned into literature, even though
One could never own another, never theirs to hold
Thus I shiver, sigh from bitter truths unspoken
Like the thoughts bleeding on this page, feelings unwroken.
The cursed turn into lonesome riders, coming from war,
With poetry in their eyes, and frightful things a smile can hide,
Their infinite pain undying, caging a beast inside
Not dead, only sleeping, awaiting to come alive.
Some are born to resist, others would die to abuse
Fear nothing more now, nobody's ours to lose.
Even if sometimes hell is other people,
What one sees might be a reflection, a projected sequel.
No comments:
Post a Comment