Wednesday, September 16, 2015


dead and empty are my eyes
once fixated on the prize
just out of grasp with my last breath
unachievable aim so twisted
it cut me like a blade
bleeding out my sides
every last drop of tear
fading into the night
a whisper of a memory of a dream
who was I once, so long ago
a name without a face
a face without a smile
the lips without a voice
the broken hearted dream
that lingers for awhile

on the one hand living seems so desirable 
on the other hand, leaving would be nice as well

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