I flicker like a fire,
music feeds my flames.
I can write and write,
dribbling my heart on a page,
so long as I am hurt.
Music is words so perfectly and poetically strung together,
each word pierces my soul.
Images and thoughts spiral around each rythme,
as if a finely tuned web.
My lifes imperfections shine through the darkness,
and become much more visible.
I simply am, or I am not.
I can't go through life claiming,
I have never been cruel.
However, I can claim to have lived.
With a death wish lingering over my shadow,
I'd still embrace each painful moment,
praying for mercy.
My hands are so tainted,
my mind so twisted,
I've become so much more then honest.
I am loyal, in a sense of speaking.
But poison none the less.
Through sorrow and madness,
I'd laugh and smile, before I start to cry.
I'm willing to live,
but at the cost as someone else.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like it. Very very good. Take a Look at one of my new ones Called boy to a man. Its a true story