I can't cry, not even for a second,
Pain is deep within, but I can't,
Trying to force it out of me,
Never quite works right inside,
It's still lingering in my dreams,
The thought of what pains me,
Dipping into what I need,
But never comes out clean,
Pleasant thoughts drift,
Out of sight out of thought,
Out of what causes me to be,
And into the abyss of nothing.
You were born crying
ReplyDeleteYou were born dying
Pleasant thoughts come and go
just as the change of seasons
look to the light ahead of the storm
to tell your own destiny of survival
to spread meaning to the meaningless