Black Isn't So Pretty
Black isn't so pretty While it runs in your blood. Asphyxia taunting you, screaming,Inviting the fear that you've fought So long to supress, into the only comfort you know.It's in you. You're too afraid Of hearing the words spoken. His silence prolongs false comfort. He struggles to be heard, But you leave him dangling on a thread Of regret. Chasing you patiently along lines of demise. Nothing seems to escape you of cold, Your hands become numb with a thought. It fits you like a wet dress. You can't postpone a feeling while You twist to the rythm of dying. Written November 12th, 2001 © on Nov 12 2001 02:09 PM PST 18 • 0 • 1
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"Black isn't so pretty..."