hey, check out: setyoursoulfree.webs.com
:)
where the first heartbeats blossomed and the truest words were spoken
I can easily feel the notion of strangeness
someone damaged what I used to call my own.
I am a stranger in this town
the town of once well praised beauty and innocence
has turned into a ghost city full of half-dead corpses
that drag their charred existences until they turn into dust.
This is not
the image of my past.
Two houses, on whose doorsteps I once cried and died
are replaced by great, huge shops--metal and brick.
I could see right through these walls
the look of death and the ghost of the past
that still wanders around to find out
what has murdered it so wildly and arbitrarily.
My old school, where I've spent all my days trying to
find out who I really am and see the human I hide inside
has turned into smithereens-and no one cares
to pick them up
hold them in his hands, warm them
breathe life into them again
I am a stranger in my own town
and this is the pain nothing will ever replace
because I have forever lost the one place
that I used to call my own.
Poetry by Eva
Read 929 times
Editors' choice
Written on 2010-11-16 at 17:25
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
:)
stranger in my town
As I walk down the old streets of music and sorrowwhere the first heartbeats blossomed and the truest words were spoken
I can easily feel the notion of strangeness
someone damaged what I used to call my own.
I am a stranger in this town
the town of once well praised beauty and innocence
has turned into a ghost city full of half-dead corpses
that drag their charred existences until they turn into dust.
This is not
the image of my past.
Two houses, on whose doorsteps I once cried and died
are replaced by great, huge shops--metal and brick.
I could see right through these walls
the look of death and the ghost of the past
that still wanders around to find out
what has murdered it so wildly and arbitrarily.
My old school, where I've spent all my days trying to
find out who I really am and see the human I hide inside
has turned into smithereens-and no one cares
to pick them up
hold them in his hands, warm them
breathe life into them again
I am a stranger in my own town
and this is the pain nothing will ever replace
because I have forever lost the one place
that I used to call my own.
Poetry by Eva
Read 929 times
Editors' choiceWritten on 2010-11-16 at 17:25
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Editorial Team |
|
countryfog |
|
John Ashleigh |
| Texts |
 by Eva Latest textsTo Let GoSoftness Particle The ghosts Summer in the city |
Increase font
Decrease