deepundergroundpoetry.com

SHARDS

Scarred are our minds by day to day distress,
Useless arguments and a secreted caress.
Things that burn deep inside our minds,
Of passing loved ones and unforgettable crimes.
Lingering in the shadows with a killer�s intent,
Whispered little voices and the mourning lament.

We, as a whole, are damned and doomed,
Like a severed rose under the moon.
Bare witness to senseless terror,
We are but the shards of a broken mirror.
All we really want is just go home,
To a safe place behind the mirror.

Live a life of grief and tragedy,
Beneath a shawl with rain splattering.
The deathly funeral dressed in black,
Too many family, too hard to keep track.
I see your face but what is your name,
Is she really dead or is this just a game?

Will you not stay just one more night,
Or must you leave like the phoenix flight?
Loneliness is part of a poor man�s world,
When you knees are planted upon the floor.
You scratch and beg for every last scrap,
Only to find yourself holding a cemetery map.

It hurts to feel
That every ounce
Of hurt is worth
Nothing at the end.

So many cultures for so many lives,
But one truth remains, you must bide
You time, for it is ever fleeting
While the reaper is ever creeping.
You cannot live fully with a half-life,
Just passed eternally into the night.

We, as a whole, are damned and doomed,
Like a severed rose under the moon.
Bare witness to senseless terror,
We are but the shards of a broken mirror.
All we really want is just go home,
To a safe place behind the mirror.

It hurts to feel
That every ounce
Of hurt is worth
Nothing at the end.