A year, three hundred and sixty five days, eight thousand and sixty hours, five hundred and twenty five thousand six hundred minutes, thirty one million five hundred and thirty six thousand seconds, passing with every blink of this eye that i am.
Blink, pain, cry, hurt, suffer, awaken, coldness, touch, nothing, blank, lost, dark, searching, looking, never finding, hoping, holding so close what matters so little, all i was gone, lost, safely on ground, feet firmly on floor, holding, being held, the feeling of warmth, tears, cry, still hurt, Blink.
If a poem is bound,
Written within lines,
Is it still what we feel.
I hate this more than you.
Copyright ©
poison_touch666
... [
2005-03-31 14:17:10]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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