Story of HeroicsA Poem by PaperLife
I can't do this anymore! MY mind is screaming my heart is longing my feet are running and my throat is bleeding. I'm losing all I've had. Even life. I'm unstable, I'm mad. Gone wild in a desolate waste. My eyes have become enstranged. Staring at the same winding clocks. Going round and round like the world. Where my breathing isn't patterned but stabbed and mocked. Suddenly youth is real, as it has never been before. And my own grinding ears. Rearing back to answer calls of quiet rememberance. Elastics rebounding. Like feelings of serendipity. But I'll be strong. I'll be tough. Freezing like hot summer days. Where falseties echo inside humidified walls. The sound trapped between your lips. Between my lips. I want the red to flow, the passion. ANd i want the music to free my times. The breath is blazing. And my soul is feared. Is flagrantly blasting its last nerve. Though my anger is drawing. Drowning, and verberating. Like rhythm. Like a plea. Heroics last one. Submission spelled in a heart so fond. Where we find hell. Burning in soldified ink. So red, so blue, so false. I'm plastically inclined. Maybe to find a reason, maybe to push the meanings. And maybe just to run. So the guitar will stop playing. The golden strings will pop and snap. The music will scream and I'll just fall. Soberlessly off the edge. I'm not sweet, I'm disgusting. They won't take advantage, I'm too sincerely exhaustive. And I tore my love off the wall. Ripped the shavings of my hope from those around. Sucking the life I shared. Unkindly terrifyingly, fallen to inhumane acts. Following the trend. Feel my wrath inside your knees. Taste my hate on your teeth. No amount of scrubbing will rid you of my memory. I'm here. But despite the promises of horror, my body lies trebled inside the rain. And I crawl. Walking through heavy drops, equal to my once begotten tears. I'm ruined. Picking up steamed glass-My once taped insides. Scattered. The headlights don't dim and the wheels don't scrape to a stop. My naked body realistic as the pieces glimmer supposedly crystalized. And the end keeps screaming. Replaying. I'm afraid. Flittering about inexisting. Like a blanket, suffocating my last thoughts. As it struggles and I struggle. In a war for a fight for a meaning. Where the stars all start streaming the same old tune. One I hated anyway. Where the blades all fall from plucked tenderness. Eyes crisply forsaken. And the basket always weaves. Unchanging and the pieces all sincerely bloom. My words are ruined and your faces are so broken, changed, indefined. I pretend to be invincible. But I lied. Merely swallowed by the better ways they make. The towels drying only one floor. Slyly and secretly tracing cages around. The key bitterly clinking. My heart resting on the gun. The gun in my hand. My fingers gripped tightly. As somehow, my soul rests when I sat down the idea. My love, I've not been happy in a long long time. As the weeping willow continues to weep. And the solace as of yet to find, crumples. Under my agonizing thoughts.
© 2012 PaperLife
Added on April 22, 2012
Last Updated on April 22, 2012
AboutLet's get something straight, I know nothing. Who I am is bled out onto the pages that I write. The most innermost parts. I am not a writer, though I write. I don't write well, but I do pour ou.. more..