When the pain reaches it's apogee, the spirit relieves itself from all shackles of sanity and self consciousness. It shuns all rational thinking and becomes self-aware of it's own existence. It bestows upon friends it's love and claims vengeance upon it's foes. Like a phoenix it is then reborn from it's own ashes.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Writing on the wall
So many weeks have gone,
Yet I sit here all alone,
I sit and cry here everyday,
With nothing left to say,
Everyone just walks by,
Without even asking why,
I get drenched in the rain,
Screaming and writhing in pain,
But all they do is stand and stare,
I wish even one of them could care.
My misery is written over my face,
Happiness has not even left a trace,
No one is there to answer my call,
No one is there to catch me when I fall,
The mountain of trouble has grown so tall,
It seems my end is a writing on the wall.
Yet I sit here all alone,
I sit and cry here everyday,
With nothing left to say,
Everyone just walks by,
Without even asking why,
I get drenched in the rain,
Screaming and writhing in pain,
But all they do is stand and stare,
I wish even one of them could care.
My misery is written over my face,
Happiness has not even left a trace,
No one is there to answer my call,
No one is there to catch me when I fall,
The mountain of trouble has grown so tall,
It seems my end is a writing on the wall.
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