Friday, October 19, 2012

Meter of a Broken Man




Maybe chains suit me better
than a world away from pain
and to always live letters
than a word away from sane.

Blame it on the limbs of glass
stuck inside these walls
from the ghost I call a past
that pirouettes like elevators; rising as I fall.

You make me want to start a war
against daylight and dreaming
and turn off every star
that you might be seeing.

If nothing is forever and that's all I'm worth
at least I'll live and die my truth
But no matter how close you search
I'll always be that lost forever for you

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