A never written book

Started ticking in the cold of October rain,
A day after the '56 pain.

The demonic frights stalked my nights,
A depressing countdown of years,
Nothin more but an unfinished, never read book.

Threw it away,
Dried up bloodstains,
Swirling nightmares down the drain.
Pills and vodka,
One minute or the next,
It ends the rest.

Open your eyes.
Cold emptiness, behind a painted face.
Nothing more than a never finished, never read book.

Dread came along with the dead.
Another day,
One more night,
Fight or die.
Shed blood, or bleed.

Fucked up nights,
One spent in pleasure,
The other in horrors.
Comforting arms, no more.
Sleepless dawns,
Prepare for a long road of dreadful stress.

Shredded pieces,
Once beating, now frozen together.
Reason in the mind no more,
Just empty pointless rage.
Surrounded by soulless creatures.

Silence stretched out long,
Midnight bells call for the last strand of life.

I hear them from beneath the ground.
Dead still aware.
I still remember all of you.

Midnight bells of hell call my name, I hear them through the casket.
Depressing cries. Not for the tears, but for they are fake.
Go home, tears wont help anymore.

I hear them from beneath the ground.
Dead still aware.
I still remember all of you.

Just a never written, never read book.

Author's Note

If you're not me, you'll probably never understand any of it. but I'd like to see you try. anyway that won't happen, since no one's reading me anymore ...so have a nice day.