|
Originally Posted by led poetic
A C.R.O.W. Left of the Murder.
Lifes chase let me misplace all that mattered.
A disgrace to be replaced by the pieces I've shattered.
Placing perfection across the path that was meant.
Facing the direction away from the pockets that were spent.
Dollar signs realigned my mind towards the greeds we're born with.
Temporarily confined my lines until I designed the dream I once missed.
Pushed the pens ink deep, staining the surface beneath.
Once words and suicide meet the pain and worthless will drink.
I grabbed the cup of death and swallowed life untill nothing left.
Felt trapped and threw-up my chest, followed lights towards the exit.
Met those above, those in charge of drugs and love.
Slept after being drunk and shared stories with a heroic monk.
I was told the steps I should've stepped
Showed the folds I regret and able to hold those I left.
A night of smiles, halos, innocence and happiness.
Tought to write to as a child with brillance and intelligence.
Only to awake to tears and a cramping stomach for food
Wish I could take fears and watch them plummit from the moon.
That nite when the blackbird lured my heart towards suicide.
No sight, only a burning hurt that turned into the quotes I write.
An evening of death, lived and found how to walk proper.
Forget being upset, begin to pronounce how I prosper.
A Crow, was left to show of the murder I swallowed
Christ's Rising Over Words came from the evening I followed..
|