Rambling Twards Nothings Door
By silver
Mortal folly falls, Heavely in the stomach, Freedom is an illusion, Harbored by our, Playground society. I say this despite lies, I can weave with a craftmans skill, On my tounge. If only they knew, That sometimes I'm just beyond caring, My dreams were thrown away. Holding pills, Against the roof of my mouth, Overdosed by family;overdosed by love Please tell me to swallow, Even though I can't, Throwing out my life aswell, Is just to hard to do, To weak to make a sacrifice, To weak to just let go. My heart keeps refusing to stop beating, Beneath rubble, Cleverly disguised as art. Written March 3rd, 2002 © on Mar 03 2002 06:26 AM PST 0 • 10
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"Mortal folly falls,..."