deepundergroundpoetry.com
No Answer
[font=Tahoma,Geneva]One mind into the realm of reality.
Yet caving in on ones creative flow.
Wondering thoughts to be dealt with on a later day.
Pondering on mass confusion with thoughts of pain.
Underlying thoughts.
The tollbooth of death,
A haunted head with thoughts left to linger .
A bloody arm and severed fingers.
Crushing red roses now black with uncertainty .
Pain.
What makes one feel?
What makes one remember?
What makes one think?
What makes one want?
What makes one yearn for it?
I can not t explain life or death.
Life itself is both past and future.
Pain can only offer you that answer. [/font]
Published 17th Jul 2012
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