A soul that couldn't take it all,
he blew his thoughts against the wall!
Crimson pain that slowly drips,
through worn out paint and plastered chips.
His body convulsing,
blackened fingertips.
Smoky mouth,
blackened eyes,
I sadly wonder,
if his soul still flies.
A pain he couldn't longer bear,
through it all still lingered there,
So many years,
it wasn't fair,
Kicked while down,
he lost the will to hope and care.
It isn't me.
For here a write,
Just a dream I had last night,
Awoke another sun to fight.
My alter ego,
took his own life.
And If you ask me,
He had the rite.
© 2013 L.K.Sorrows
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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