Uncertain, My Name
By Abilene
It's what I feel, unreal unreal My tongue is hiding All is drunk & tired. The train of memory Has since killed someone A poor boy, almost sixteen The red hair & eyes extending Frightened still- now dead. My pyre piled high with childhood foolishness, smiles & laughter, waves of despair, There's so much more- can't recall. Held with an unyielding vice Haven't found the fire in mind Haven't found a reason to And funny how my hands are bitten. Wondering if I'll ever find The definition of truth Thinking who I'll have to kill To get it this time. Written December 5th, 2001 © on Dec 05 2001 01:13 AM PST 0 • 1
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"It's what I feel, unreal unreal..."