deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Bottom of the Barrel

[center]The Bottom of the Barrel

[img]http://i379.photobucket.com/albums/oo234/raja200319/friends-kingdom_04-12.jpg[/img]

Every one is in color,
the scenes are all in color,
yet I'm photographed in
black and white.
My self worth equaling zero,
it was a dark time.

No trust for any one,
and no love to be given.
No rays from the sun,
the world to me, was unforgiving.

Blisters of the nights,
I spent roaming the streets.
I stayed out till twilight,
where ever I was led by my feet.

I didn't wanna go home,
I didn't want to be greeted by silence.
The Astra 600 pistol was in the cup board.
The perfect solution to solve all
my problems.

An inner fleshy wound,
was festering flies inside of me.
A state of impending doom,
Offing myself, would've been too easy.

I didn't wanna be alone
I wasn't secure on my own.
I induced drugs into my bones.
Heading to path of no return.
A pit without bottom, �
Haunted by succubus-like fathoms,
In recurrent nightmares, I'd drown.

The pistol was down in my mouth,
ready to blow the bullet out.
Taking one last look of the spot,
one single tear ran down.
Somewhere in the fog,
brightened a bulb.
A serious thought,
that tightened my throat.

I wasn't afraid to die.
I was not afraid of death.
I somehow still appreciate life,
even if I was given a dirty play.

If I was afraid of dying,
I'd live cowardly in constant fear.
I'm not afraid of passing,
which makes that simple fact
much easier to bare. [/center]