The heart is overrated, and mine's filled with rage
Sickened into the depths of my dismay
Last stand for calling, wanting, haunting-
Me! What am I to be here?
What have I to gain? My soul's too hard
I don't understand their ways
Too spiteful for the giving, and none left now
Of my sympathetic soul to be around
I gave so much once but I've run out
And all I'm left with is unbridaled doubt
Lined with the lining of crimson regret
Filled with the dark substance of my neglect
Heart wrenching, soul clenching blisters of fears
Left with the hollowed place of my years
Absent from emotion, absent of true pride
Vacant of perception, vacant of my life
The only filling and this feeling enduring
Endearing my rage
Vortextes of abissal pain plummets all
Devours my sage
There is no redemption of wrath, my deadliest sin
My only divider between me and God's win
 Xits the Tragedy · Sun Jun 11, 2006 @ 05:24pm · 0 Comments |
