Down
gmdish
Posts: 26
I've become shrowded in black
on a rapid downward spiral,no way to escape no place to stop.
All i can do is wait for the impact at the bottom,
maybe then i can find a route to begin the climb
You were my friend, my lover,my soul,my yang my reason for waking.
Where there was joy a gut-wrenching nausia now haunts me to the pit of my stomach.
My comfort is that maybe soon ill find inner peace.
When will life stop trying to grind me into submission?
I just hope i can love again
on a rapid downward spiral,no way to escape no place to stop.
All i can do is wait for the impact at the bottom,
maybe then i can find a route to begin the climb
You were my friend, my lover,my soul,my yang my reason for waking.
Where there was joy a gut-wrenching nausia now haunts me to the pit of my stomach.
My comfort is that maybe soon ill find inner peace.
When will life stop trying to grind me into submission?
I just hope i can love again
given to fly
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
Cradle of Filth
"I see hell in your eyes
Taken in by surprise
Taking you makes me feel alive
Touching you makes me die."
Vampire Lestat
maybe then i can find a route to begin the climb"
Once you've hit botton, the only way to go is up! It's healing time and once you've healed a little more, I'm sure you'll be able to open your heart to love again!
I've enjoyed your poems today, thanks for sharing!
A whisper and a chill
adv2005
"Why do I bother?"
The 11th Commandment.
"Whatever"
PETITION TO STOP THE BAN OF SMOKING IN BARS IN THE UNITED STATES....Anyone?
I can relate to your poem...so here's mine. I think we might have a common theme. By the way embrace the bottom for now.
It has almost been a year since I lost my best friend. In another time we loved at the altar of our heroes. Now it has almost been a year since his parting but I swear I can still see the dead dancing on scenic overlooks . It's a grave that I cannot visit, touch, see, or whisper to. It's a shame the other half got to him and cut him...cut him out. Broken mirrors bled him free and bandaged him captured. Wishes were choked black by reality and reason was thrown to the bedside. No matter how close the door it was never in reach. No matter how we tried broken fingers could not turn back what the hand had done, what the eyes had seen, or what the bones had incurred. Only one witness, the heart's false prophet, still becomes stirred at the sound of their heroes with sacred, silent, testimony and suddenly… he lives.