he mocks me..
twisted words.. wrangled emotions.. a place for netted thoughts and ramblings..
this heart and that
all a truely troubled space for sympathy..
he mocks you..
ranting and raving in daring delight
knowing all along that theres no end in sight
just mundane mockery and a mauled sense of dread
dripping poison on the scattered petals left -
of emotions run dry like the pen that couldnt write anymore
the sword of the writer reduced to thought
the muse mystified
and everythings drained of carefree colour
now
its all just sepia sorriness
and a pale pathos
feelings are the fallen angel
and we wonder why..
British Collectivism in A Fall of Moondust
3 hours ago
5 comments:
this is deepness felt. no make that- this is deepness drowned in!
good stuff kimmy!
JT
hey girl! reminds me of a poem i reead sometime ago about women in warring coutries. i suppose war resides in every moment of life, everyday struggles and whatever we face as women in general. nicely written. it resonates with me.
sara
verbally speaking as always, THIS IS ONE LOADED PIECE OF WORK LADY!!!
but then youre always aload of thinking!
The Verb
Hi Kimya!
Hows the booksales going maám? :-P
This is heavy but it sounds like a lyric to something upbeat maybe. Reminds me of one of your other ones, i cant remember teh name ;-)
thnx all!
@JT: deepness drowned in? sounds quite poetic... and apt response to my avid alliteration :)
@sara: the wars inside us are perhaps greater than the wars around... or perhaps theyre the microcosm of the great expanse... :/
@ The Verb: Loaded like a Garish Gun methinks...
@diatribe: lyrics hey! we should start a band... i would play the tamborine :P
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