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Rated: · Poetry · Personal · #1281474
The work should speak for itself. Tell me if it does
With a melted heart and a damaged brain
I force myself through this again
I don't know why I'm living this way
It's killing me slowly and making my hairs turn grey

Ideas just drain, people the same
I left this town and came, back here again
With my heart on my sleeve, I felt so naive
Maybe I'll learn, or maybe I'll just leave

I'm killing my time, drinking my wine
Not a care in the world; but I lie
The things that I loved, are gone in the end
Not a person around, to call my friend

I haven't a thought, I like in my head
Living off water and stale bread
So now I sit here, hiding away
Preaching my mind and forgetting what I say
© Copyright 2007 Alex K. Dylan (lostinsmoke at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1281474