Thursday, October 22, 2009

Died Inside

Sometimes there's things
Even music can't heal
And sometimes the cuts
Aren't deep enough to feel
So whats left for me then
Poetry.. my only friend
No beats or blades
No vibe or pain
To take my mind away
From this world
And into my own
Where its not so cold
But I'm stuck laying here in this bed
With all these thoughts filling my head
I write with the blood that pumps
From my weaken and abused heart
Every drop of blood tells
Another sad story
Of my life and how it dwells
Repeating it self everyday
That passes by
Poetry please save me
Why must I cry?
I can't take it anymore
I've died inside. .

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