plain mad depression :p

No Fotprints

The loss bite holes in my stomach
while the sorrowbirds scream, hoarse roaming over the country

In anger of being alone
I'm pulling off my hair
breaks glass
and makes love to a dead pig

The thoughts destroy
everything we should have done

But I cut a little hole in the carpet on the floor
crawl in
disappearing in the darkness

Still you are not with me

Poetry by barbeina
Read 666 times
Written on 2006-08-28 at 17:34

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