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Nothing More
Contributed by
weepingprophet
on
Friday, 30th September 2005 @ 08:28:39 PM in AEST
Topic:
obsession
|
Here we are, fresh
At the apocalypse of inevitability
Faith has carried us thus far
And now we bite the hand
Slit the wrist
Of all that holds us
Bleed out on the truth
You’re nothing
Nothing more than what I made you
Nothing more than what I made you
Dark eye circles and fracture, welt
We are united together, this is our hell
The realization
Recognition
We are one, we are inhibition
Bleed out on the truth
You’re nothing
Nothing more than what I gave you
Nothing more than what I gave you
And in the mirror here
With the simple cuts of relief
And on the floor there
The cold wake up of disbelief
Bleed out on the truth
You’re nothing
You’re nothing more than what I named you
You’re nothing more than what I named you
The girl desperate and pleading
Inside the sacrifice body
The girl sad and bleeding
Unite desire and the release
You are me, she is me
Bleed out on the truth
Here I am bleeding too
All these years I’ve blamed you
You are me, she is me
The girl intertwined
Unite, despise
The wretched disguise
This body was sacrifice
Take all my alibis
She was my prize
The simple demise
All these years I’ve bled on the lies
Now I’ll bleed out the truth
This is the death of you
You are nothing, she is nothing
Nothing more than,
Nothing more than,
I HATE YOU
Copyright ©
weepingprophet
... [
2005-09-30 20:28:39]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Nothing More
(User Rating: 1 )
by Archie on
Saturday, 1st October 2005 @ 01:15:12 AM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
|
Are you saying that you hate yourself?
Be careful that it does not turn into depression.
I like your poem from an honest point of view. |
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Re: Nothing More
(User Rating: 1 )
by weepingprophet on
Saturday, 1st October 2005 @ 05:57:58 PM AEST
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a Message)
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Self-hatred is the first step to recovery. I hate myself for many reasons, many choices and it gets to a point in life when death makes it noticeable that desperation and hope lie only in ones self-demise. you have to hate what is killing you to change it, i have hated myself, i have been depressed and those two things are cruelly and brutally honest, regardless. We find life and living not essential but bearable because we learn to endure the honest perspective, reflection, and when that produces self-hate, enough for one to change I would say that is dangerously close to what others label as "recovery"and therefore well worth the price of freedom.
you close minded f**ks open your eyes, the truth in all its light, it's your uncompromised demise. Despise me, advise me, you'll always deny me. In the end you will find me, to be what you are not, brutally honest, sold but not bought, to lies.~weepingprophet |
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Re: Nothing More
(User Rating: 1 )
by Bohemian_with_a_pen on
Saturday, 1st October 2005 @ 11:42:54 PM AEST
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a Message)
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| another awesome poem, well done |
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