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Sweet Sense of Self
Contributed by
crimson_purity
on
Sunday, 31st August 2003 @ 04:25:00 AM in AEST
Topic:
Suicide
|
No, you cannot find
My paper bullet armoury, don't be frightened
It's hidden amongst
The bludgeoned remains of what was once
The material pride
Brought by lettering engraved, with a smile now
They lie.
Ripped, ink smearing, flesh adhering to
My heart, blood soaked poems, lost all need
and point at the moment I began to bleed.
Blood dries, papers survive,words live on
But where I am, my sweet, I am gone.
A constant that I never knew, paranoid
dillusionsof auxillery demons spoil
Potential greatness of life versus death. It's
Out of my hands, not the blade but battle
As blood rushes from my open wound
Death comes soon
You look at my eyes with such distaste
As they sit open, dormant a waste
of nothing. Know now, beyond any doubt
That places itself in thy head, now
I can be free to love you, now I'm dead.
Allowed you my paper bullet kiss
Goodbye, with motives selfish
So that I may linger on as more
Than the hair sticking to a cold forehead,
Not the cut up corpse, lying dead on the floor.
Copyright ©
crimson_purity
... [
2003-08-31 04:25:00]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Sweet Sense of Self
(User Rating: 1 )
by jaeann on
Sunday, 31st August 2003 @ 05:41:18 AM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
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not the blade but battle.....awesome line....
really good imagery...the visual it takes me through is almost shocking..... |
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Re: Sweet Sense of Self
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Monday, 1st September 2003 @ 03:16:45 AM AEST
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a Message)
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Beautiful words and imagery. This is truly a great poem.
With motives selfish
So that I may linger on as more
Than the hair sticking to a cold forehead
Great lines. I love it! |
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