| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Family >> ID #1393529 |
| |||||||||||||
|
I hang my head in shame.
I have failed you once again. Guilty is the verdict In these walls I'm bound. I welcome the darkness within it I am found. I am left with these wounds. These wounds are left with me. This was your decision. This is what you created for me. Empty tunes of melody memories. You wanted this too be. I am the one that is blamed. I am the one that is broken now. I hang my head in shame. You, on the pedestal of fame. The people we became the memories we made. Counting, the drops of rain. Making me go insane. Juices overflowing Inside my head. Overwhelming, intensing dread. Of what lies ahead now that your dead.
© Copyright 2008 you, my pen, your my best frie (UN: writina19 at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
you, my pen, your my best frie has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |