deepundergroundpoetry.com
Dark
Smoked filled room,
tired, dark eyes.
Scary thoughts,
whispering winds of death and life.
Nothing changes,
sorrow comes and goes as the cigarette burns,
hearts swell,
tears well up in those dark eyes of mine.
Pain is the same,
same damn game,
same shit different day,
the clock ticks as sleep strikes.
Embers burn bright,
remembrance of those dark days,
dark times,
everything was dark in sight.
Nightmares come,
eyes afraid to close,
air afraid to exhale,
life scarred,
limbs burn.
Hardship never ceases,
stresses never quiet,
love trapped to tight,
skin stretched,
rippling,
marked all wrong.
Lips speak truth,
mind runs too rapidly,
heart screams,
soul dwindles where light can't hit it.
Haters trudge on,
yelling to "throw her in the fire,"
drag her name through the mud,
ears ring,
as they speak hatred to thy name.
Racing to the finish line,
of life,
to get away to walk away,
faced with hurt feelings,
concerned family,
hurting friends,
no words come,
looks of despair blow with the winds.
Lungs fill with confused air,
wondering if they should fail,
somehow stop,
somehow they forgot to do their job.
tired, dark eyes.
Scary thoughts,
whispering winds of death and life.
Nothing changes,
sorrow comes and goes as the cigarette burns,
hearts swell,
tears well up in those dark eyes of mine.
Pain is the same,
same damn game,
same shit different day,
the clock ticks as sleep strikes.
Embers burn bright,
remembrance of those dark days,
dark times,
everything was dark in sight.
Nightmares come,
eyes afraid to close,
air afraid to exhale,
life scarred,
limbs burn.
Hardship never ceases,
stresses never quiet,
love trapped to tight,
skin stretched,
rippling,
marked all wrong.
Lips speak truth,
mind runs too rapidly,
heart screams,
soul dwindles where light can't hit it.
Haters trudge on,
yelling to "throw her in the fire,"
drag her name through the mud,
ears ring,
as they speak hatred to thy name.
Racing to the finish line,
of life,
to get away to walk away,
faced with hurt feelings,
concerned family,
hurting friends,
no words come,
looks of despair blow with the winds.
Lungs fill with confused air,
wondering if they should fail,
somehow stop,
somehow they forgot to do their job.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 2
comments 3
reads 854
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.