deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Good Old Days
I would sleep but red eyes keep me rigid,
And when I abandon my thoughts, they turn with venomous teeth,
And cracked dreams will creep up on me and I fall,
A never ending, ever mending wound torn open and blood,
Crimson in its exit, stinging, stretching fury.
I cry out and shy away from something better.
And when I abandon my thoughts, they turn with venomous teeth,
And cracked dreams will creep up on me and I fall,
A never ending, ever mending wound torn open and blood,
Crimson in its exit, stinging, stretching fury.
I cry out and shy away from something better.
Published 2nd Mar 2012
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Anonymous
2nd Mar 2012 7:53am
i see your new here so i say welcome to deep underground i liked your short poem it was a good poem i had to read it 3 times to get what you are saying in this poem, i think on the last line i would have put i cry out and shy away to my self made hell, i hope you dont mind me saying that but i feel it could have had a little more work and time put into this poem
The Good Old Days
I would sleep but the red eyes i keep seeing in a vision,
And when abandoned thoughts leave i feel i have accomplished my mission
And cracked up dreams will creep up my white walls of insanity
A never ending ever mending wound torn open
I bleed crimson that falls to the unholy ground of yesterdays dreams
I cry out and shy away to my self made hell.
The Good Old Days
I would sleep but the red eyes i keep seeing in a vision,
And when abandoned thoughts leave i feel i have accomplished my mission
And cracked up dreams will creep up my white walls of insanity
A never ending ever mending wound torn open
I bleed crimson that falls to the unholy ground of yesterdays dreams
I cry out and shy away to my self made hell.
