|Carbonated Drinks at Midnight
Author: Feathered Fiends PM
i'm spending too much time thinking things over, and that might not be a good thingRated: Fiction T - English - Words: 395 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Published: 05-18-06 - id: 2175924
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I'm turning different colors to match the blood that stains my shoes.
Walk on water, walk on fear, walk on a full moon.
There's a light at the end of the tunnel.
Death has never seemed so bright a future.
Where's the shadow in the morgue?
I'm not breaking promises as long as I'm not making them
and I'm not taking a drought of sleep to swallow
to keep me locked inside a dream.
Where are the fireflies tonight? Because tonight appears so obsolete
when the stars are hiding so discreetly.
Find and count the lucky ones that fall to the ground
and keep them quietly.
Don't let them get away again if they're all you've found.
What ever happened to the dreamers that turned to stand
amongst the pedestal of podiums that line the front row?
Where did the ancestors go before they became the past?
The present never lasts
and all I can keep is a split second.
Fairness and sobriety is hidden in a statement on the paper,
in the bottom of the drawer.
A state of content is entered to change the weather...
...so what am I still waiting for?
I can keep my head up to face the sky
and question why I mean anything at all.
But solid smoke, come sweet October,
could be worse than any other
if I find I'm doomed to fall (again).
What becomes of the martyr wen she's suicidal,
on the edge of her seat, and breathing is a nuisance?
The Saint of Nobody arrived for me today
and took my mind away,
and now, I'm just invisible abyss.
How did it come down to this?
I'm alright, I'm alive, I'm okay for now.
So what's eating apart my insides?
I don't want to die
but why not if your purpose is for misery and a blackened sky?
Don't cry, I don't want to cry
but I'm running out of choices 'to get the pain to go away.'
The blood will always stain,
the scars will never go away.
A constant reminder of everything engraved within my skin.
Do I have a soul within?
Or is it a hollow hole of beaten glory?
Could I be okay with this or should I simply lie?