Stephan van Pinksteren
Living in a dream world,
Taking no prisoners,
Leaving everything behind,
Can it be any worse.
Wandering around in confusion,
Finding my way threw bare despair.
They left me behind all alone,
Can this be my punishment is this fair.
Figuring this out,
It is taking to long.
Where did I go,
What did I do wrong.
To depressed to figure out this madness,
I can only see black no light at hand.
Where is my salvation,
Help me get up because I can't.
I'm the darkness,
I'm the despair.
I can't control myself,
I don't really care
Why should they help me,
What's the point of life.
I know my own future,
And that is the knife,
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Comments about this poem (The Knife by Stephan van Pinksteren )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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