Matt Gray

The Scenic Route To Heaven - Poem by Matt Gray

She whispers to you,
Hell: Where a faulty line resembles a bridge to heaven
crimson wings force death among all men
and menaces roam the streets collecting coins
victims of their own desires
A bridge, crumbling ahead at each step
peices of what once was called life follwing a trail
into a never ending free will
And now as we turn our heads to the right
we'll see life, in its most common form:
a paper bag, a name on the side, carefully folded
one fourth of the way down
a flawless fit for a hand
The sky is a bit too blue for a funeral
the eulogys might have to wait
isn't it funny how the world fits together so right
but everything that inhabits the world is so wrong.
It is stained, forever
broken hearted in the midst of death
spiritually enhanced with a moment to spare
dropp your words
and stop a minute to wonder
pain is only a increase in lifes young virtures
and happiness is a pill of letdown
our lives succumb to the knife
the knife, sharpened to a dull
Her body shows her pain,
she crossed the line

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Poem Submitted: Monday, March 2, 2009

Poem Edited: Monday, March 2, 2009

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