deepundergroundpoetry.com
Inner Wonderings of a Morbid Soul
Gone is the day
Soon is the 'morrow
Death is coming
Creeping
Hiding
Darkness inhabits the soul
I like to scream at what I cannot change
Life is drawings in the sand
Washed away by waves
Crashing
Drowning me
I can't breath
Why is everyone gone?
Where am I?
Is this infinite abyss reality?
Or is it as superficial as what God's sheep are too meek to question?
Reality isn't real
I can mold it like clay
I laugh
You call me crazy
But true sanity is not blindly accepting what is easily handed to you on a silver platter
Soon is the 'morrow
Death is coming
Creeping
Hiding
Darkness inhabits the soul
I like to scream at what I cannot change
Life is drawings in the sand
Washed away by waves
Crashing
Drowning me
I can't breath
Why is everyone gone?
Where am I?
Is this infinite abyss reality?
Or is it as superficial as what God's sheep are too meek to question?
Reality isn't real
I can mold it like clay
I laugh
You call me crazy
But true sanity is not blindly accepting what is easily handed to you on a silver platter
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