about betrayal..
Isn't the lowest bottom to hit,
Not the highest pedestal to stumble from;
It's unlike spoiling a masterpiece -
Ignoring destiny's command might be worse.
If both of us are children of the underworld,
Weren't we thrown together for a reason?
Like sadistic dictators, like the flames that brought down Rome?
Suppose for a moment, that betrayal
Isn't always a horrifying act,
Not a magnetic crime against civilization;
It's unlike raping a cuddly bunny -
Stepping on Satan's tail might be worse.
If life is just a one time opportunity,
Where's the heroism of staying faithful,
While spitting on nature's premonitions?
Probably I'm finally becoming schizophrenic,
Talking to ghosts on different pages,
As if they were people or lovers to be.
Did they finally catch me with their sanity injections?
I don't trust psychologists, intuition is it's own frank doctor.
I'm dragging my legs behind me,
Wondering if you will throw my intellectual side
Down the trash container, did I become too serious?
Maybe my hands are colder, but your heart is kinder,
Talking about who's mind you inherited,
You're still confused about inheriting his actions..
Poetry by FrancescaLuca
Read 752 times
Written on 2006-11-17 at 15:15
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Children of the underworld
Suppose for a second, that sinIsn't the lowest bottom to hit,
Not the highest pedestal to stumble from;
It's unlike spoiling a masterpiece -
Ignoring destiny's command might be worse.
If both of us are children of the underworld,
Weren't we thrown together for a reason?
Like sadistic dictators, like the flames that brought down Rome?
Suppose for a moment, that betrayal
Isn't always a horrifying act,
Not a magnetic crime against civilization;
It's unlike raping a cuddly bunny -
Stepping on Satan's tail might be worse.
If life is just a one time opportunity,
Where's the heroism of staying faithful,
While spitting on nature's premonitions?
Probably I'm finally becoming schizophrenic,
Talking to ghosts on different pages,
As if they were people or lovers to be.
Did they finally catch me with their sanity injections?
I don't trust psychologists, intuition is it's own frank doctor.
I'm dragging my legs behind me,
Wondering if you will throw my intellectual side
Down the trash container, did I become too serious?
Maybe my hands are colder, but your heart is kinder,
Talking about who's mind you inherited,
You're still confused about inheriting his actions..
Poetry by FrancescaLuca
Read 752 times
Written on 2006-11-17 at 15:15
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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