28 de marzo de 2011

Not happy to be here

The tick of time is out of rhyme,
Where wild things wait for death,
Watching the stars through iron bars,
And breathing each other's breath.
But little man with his civic plan,
To conquer and subdue,
Acquires a thrill from broken will,
Of beasts in the city zoo.








This is not my country.
I may say I am going home,
but where I really end up in,
is a condemned hell hole.

This is not where I belong.
A familiar room I call mine,
four walls enclose around,
each are all a lie.



Everything is blurry now
Visions of the future
are becoming faded and growing quite dark
Trust once again broken
when it was already so fragile
and hard thing to earn

Do you even have a clue of what you have done
or how hard it was for me to trust you in the first place






          Hate and hatred
       Anger galore
       With the days passing
       It grows ever more

       Oh so vengeful
       These feelings I hide
       Whispering evils
       This voice inside

       You’re a pain
       A cancerous malignant thing
       Your voice drips poison
       You find yourself a king







You think you’re so good
You think you’re so grand
I’ll end all your thoughts
With this knife in my hand

And I’ll be free
Clean and benign
Free from my shadow-self
Though no longer divine
Stain on my hands
Blood and a kill
We all die anyway
Vengeance fulfilled








Alone in my confines,
Eyes that follow.
Do nothing but remind,
That I am hollow.

I find myself babbling,
To their emotionless masks.
And I find myself gambling,
On what they would ask.

On what they would say,
If lips could form words.
But, no, not today,
For they cannot be heard.

But, it all is in vain.
For, after all,
After all pleadings of pain,
They are, alas, only pictures,
On the wall.








Poems (in order) by:  V.Y. Laramore, K.Mcfadden, ????, Moonlight Shadow, Final Brooder



 


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