Scratches On The Glass - Poem by Lance Carthen
Dead and hollow, emotionless and free.
I am now something that you will never be.
My teeth are sharp, I stab through the heart.
Got you in my arms, so tender and soft.
Broken glass of distant memories.
The mirror has started to rust.
A missing name among the graves.
Is it still in God we trust?
Your eye's lead me to sin.
Your naked and loving it.
Every breath you take.
Your screaming in my head.
Your passion causes pain.
You know I cannot be this way.
Too many tears to pray anymore.
Ive already died in vain.
For every tragedy, a moment forgot.
Bind to the truth and deaf to the thought.
Your fears spin like a merry go around.
Then comes love, your face hits the ground.
What you think is real is fake.
How many images can one portray?
What started as hate we know sedate.
Your love caused the blood stains.
Your love caused the bloodstains.
Fallen tears were red.
I cant take this anymore.
I feel I am dead.
At the broken church the children prayed.
No one dares to look the other way.
The rose of death with outstretched hands.
In her mind lurked...the man.
Comments about Scratches On The Glass by Lance Carthen
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl