Speak to me with hollow words and empty eyes
so that I may fill all,
Not by mere glance or brush of tongue,
but in dreams I fall.
Waking up's an afterthought
as I stumble through your day,
Still know nothing of me
yet in your mind I play.
Self proclaimed fantasy
tell me all your lies,
Self fulfilling prophecy,
confess before we die.
9-23-06
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem