| Poetry |
| The Storm The World is spinning and I'm in the middle The eye of the storm The centre of surrealism I watch as chaos takes place around me But take no part in it I am the cause of it But I can't alter a thing It controls me I feel nothing but sense a storm inside me Then I am caught in the hurricane The emotions are too much to take at once Now it is everyone else watching me My downfall my pain The storm bays for my blood A sacrifice to stop the turmoil The sting of the blade is nothing in comparison I am left bleeding and sobbing Only now do I allow them to help. |
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| UNTITLED. My shadow has the plague. It stalks and limps where it used to befriend and dance. Closest known to closest fear in a days blink. When the moon took back the night you ran with it. Cross on my door. I'll put you on the cart myself. freya |
| UNTITLED. Broken hearts, broken glass and broken promises. Everything ruined, a hopeless mess of blood&arguments and what-were friendships. Unfixable, to breakable emotions too unstable. Could self destruct at any moment, with nothing but this sickening silence to pick up the pieces. Never a chance to put this darkened jigsaw back together. I cry. And I wait. For what?! So I wonder. What may become of this being? A burning, maybe rotting, decietful aperture for where my soul should be? Compassion seems to be the missing piece. I suffocate on my own thoughts, my lungs demanding air as I watch from a distance, refusing to give in to their spoilt requests. Slowly my selfishness drifts away, blood ceases to flow, the puzzle complete. Only to be put away on a high shelf, soon to be forgotten, brought down and made again, only when all the toys are broken, every word's been spoken and the joke's on me. |
| Leaving could be the only way to confirm you were here at all. The ultimate test of this dream, smash it to pieces and take yourself with it. Every case come through the soil and whisper to them : 'je suis un revolutionairre'. Say it till they know. Fear of the word is fear of the deed. Je suis un revolutionairre. freya |
| What's the use in staying alive? Just another monster, kills to survive. Destroy what we worked for and lived for in vain, Wasting abusing again and again. Living in squalor a network of hate, Death is your destiny, fortune and fate. Savages tear at our final last hope. Want out of this mess but I can't reach the rope. Deceitful eyes watching don't blink or you die. But I let my eyes flicker and there's no wonder why. |
| my skin burns it wants to tear I urge to rip and bleed but I no longer have the energy even to gain the emotion of anger I can't react I barely exist fury gradually grows inside me waiting to burst my defense bubble then all hell breaks loose my veins flow freely their cargo runs out of me I'm covered in blood |
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| I can see the end. I feel myself falling before I'm allready there. All planned, yet such a disorganised battle plays in my head - and I'm losing. My defences weak, can't let me lose, I need to prove to you that I can make this. Right now to say I could would only be lying. To you. To me. To the world. Admit the failure. The defeat. The Death. The Me. sam |
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