The wikkaman theory

Spaceman cowboy
psychedelic psychic
paranoid pschytzoid
counting all my vices
and fighting all my blessings
im caught up in a crisis
although my sleeps deathless
my days seem lifeless
i scream at existence
it answers with silence
i silence the questions
with outbursts of violence
im lost in the maze
where i found my reality
i triumph on self defeat
and beat myself gradually
i drove myself mad
searching for sanity
i lost my way home
while exploring the vanity
im fueling the fire
that burns my mentality
my muse is abuse
and a long road of tragedys
i drown in the depths
of my bitter self knowledge
i used all my bravery
trying to have courage
i seek for forgiveness
but beg to be punished
i fight for my freedom
while chained to the gutters
i find all my comforts
in deep insecuritys
i spoil whats beautifull
looking for impuritys
im buried in the lies
trying to live my life truthly
i sail my ship alone
and im still having mutinys
im wearing a disguise
trying to hide from the phonys
im hiding from myself
but im scared of being lonely
my worlds like a cell
God created just to hold me
my lifes like a game
where my death is the trophy.


Poetry by chester.p
Read 663 times
Written on 2007-02-27 at 13:13

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