life is just a work of fictionthe sun just popped its head out of those grey clouds,
and the voices in my head talk way too loud.
i wish i hade something that would make you proud,
maybe some words or something to kill what kills.
and the streetlights have changed, they create no more shadows,
they just cast a blue light, right in through my window.
the fog in my room, is just my evapourated soul,
it took the oportunity to escape through my nostrils.
this is just an attempt to evacuate my head,
some kind of pathetic try to wake what's dead,
a desperate experiment to turn blue into red.
no matter how hard you try, the house will always win.
and all these thoughts are just, failed distraction,
from the fact that this life is just a work of fiction,
and that breathing is just a useless addiction.
there's so much more that hides underneath this skin.
Poetry by crushoftheyear
Read 506 times
Written on 2006-01-29 at 21:16
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