A parable of broken words can only be deemed honest
When the words are only broken from the time they fall apart
Seperation of the thoughts and fragments are deemed unfocused
When the coffee cups and china glasses end before a start
But the whistle from the train displays a message without words
Why can't I express myself the same?
A terrorized example of myself flows from the pen
And time is only time in every world's own regiment
It's not the same in text as mind
'Cause words refuse to flow so kind
Upon a sheet or fingers guiding keys
And only time will tell
If this tertiary hell
Will end up meaning anything to me
Sometimes I send a letter to the heavens in the sky asking 'Why?'
Yet they seldom open up and never answer.
Oftentimes I sit alone abondened in my room with only thoughts
But they just don't turn out the same on paper.
Before it drives me round the bend
I only have to wish it end
And all around me comes crashing to a halt
And disappointment doesn't wish
Upon a broken patterned dish
We only get to shower in our salt
I don't even care
Because I failed
To express myself
I'm at a loss for words.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment