Why can't you be horrible and full of unforgivable flaws? Why does it gets worse and not better inside my stupid, devoted heart? Why do you still feel the same to me? Your skin hasn't lost that scent I knew The scent I still know and can remember by simply closing my eyes The scent I still desire and find familiar Even if it really never was
I rubbed my skin against the morning's water Whispered through a forest's green And hushed a running stream
I shot through the fog in a car And danced with the core of the heat Lifting blankets and secrets and hopes and dreams
I told him to leave Conceived in him the idea of perpetual insignificance Taught him the truth behind meaning
I watched him with his toes curled over the edge A graduation day Seeing the glassy water and feeling like a Martyr, a saint My hands coaxed him in, my cries scratched his ears He left the land Choosing some notion of solitude Choosing to drift with the tides
I blew the winds fiercer on her Sending new waves of shudders through her naked body Flinching with each whip of my winds She curled tighter up into herself I beat the sun into her back I cracked her skin and bled her thirst I caked dirt into the wounds I left
Desert or Sea? Burn or Freeze? Which Hell is harsher? Will pain make me free?
I ate her after she withered back to dust I drank his diluted blood
They will die today And it will mean nothing to tomorrow
It's two in the afternoon And I'm nodding my head to a song That sounds like sitting on a bench In a park full of cherry blossoms While you seem to be growing onto A coming of age. And there are angels watching over me From different angles; even though I forget, They remember that beauty is subjective And my visuals will be more than a platonic guide And more of an erotica and a love story To a different pair of eyes.
Ii.
It's now two in the morning And I'm swaying to a song That reminds me of a humid night That asks for forgiveness because It chokes you of air. It's a dream of God sending guardian angels To lull you to a slumber sleep And awaken you to an early morning. They whisper the language of the Heavens And as they speak in tongues, They caress each and every golden strand On your head. Ar hyd y nos.
song.
Author: dewdrop
0
Date: 06/04/2020
№ 1209249
I wrote a song
I wrote a song for you, To be something you could relate to... I wrote it staying up at night And bled ink till morning light.
My days went by in those lines, I fell in love, swooning, in those times A love consuming me the way, Candle light is devoured by the day...
Then the bad days came and you went away Without a word, you – who had promised to stay. My song – half written, with a pen stilled, A writer's soul – lacking her will.
Then seasons changed and what would you know He has come, thank goodness you had to go - I completed that song, half of two men... Ah! But you are all the same, so what matter, then?
Money talks that's true Poverty is known to shout They say fear is all we need to duck here You tell yourself Fuck man Try going without That's a horror show Closed books on forgotten shelves One day The script writes itself Call it common folk Just another lost light misplaced the original in the mist of a long life I'm tired I'm not myself, I've exhausted all my avenues It's costly to talk like I've given in I would cross over If the bridge were lit I forget my place I'll fade forgotten once it's my time the world turns Furies pace As my head spins, damaging the handwritten art on canvases I keep a candle lit, Pen bled remembrance as I brandished it Hard to stay on a sovereign thought That's sobering, like running out of private stock Spilling out you're liquor The cascade of dreams is where the plot got thicker Life's always been a bitch, so of course I'm obsessed with her I was the rarest in the section 8, to take with me both potential and diploma was highlighted gifted in the second grade Climbing mountains Pause, explanation is I came up hard so I'll probably fall And when I'm dead and gone I leave behind a legacy and indentations on the landing spot You can record the aftershock Call it my theme song
Alternative Song For The Severed Head In 'The King Of The Great Clock Tower'
Saddle and ride, I heard a man say, Out of Ben Bulben and Knocknarea, What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower? All those tragic characters ride But turn from Rosses' crawling tide, The meet's upon the mountain-side. A slow low note and an iron bell.
What brought them there so far from their home. Cuchulain that fought night long with the foam, What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower? Niamh that rode on it; lad and lass That sat so still and played at the chess? What but heroic wantonness? A slow low note and an iron bell.
Aleel, his Countess; Hanrahan That seemed but a wild wenching man; What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower? And all alone comes riding there The King that could make his people stare, Because he had feathers instead of hair. A slow low note and an iron bell.
