NESSAholics.com
Other Topics => Creative Endeavors => Topic started by: PIBby on March 21, 2004, 02:28:18 pm
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The white sky bleeds Spring air as white as snow.
Don't you hate the irony in eveything that's happening.
Like breaking the mirror you looked into,
To make sure you weren't distorted.
I told you, you never could be.
And hell, broken glass won't help,
Nor will a collage of your face.
The antiquity of these thoughts is anything but priceless.
The couch has been my home.
My guitar has been my artificial life,
Since you took mine, which was genuine.
How expensive can we get?
How expensive can we get?
Repentance is all I want from you,
And 'til I get it, I won't relax,
Because without the cleansing of my veins,
I know I can't go on again.
It's too dark and humid and cold and wet in this desolate morgue.
So ask yourself, "What's gone wrong?"
"What's happening or going on?"
Because the fact that I couldn't answer any of those has impailed me.
And I can't go on. I'm still wondering what's happening,
And what I've lost, and what's happening.
I don't know who I am.
I've dug deep inside my mind, but I still can't find a remaining splinter,
From the part of me that you burned down.
I don't care how you're doing.
I don't care if you didn't stay.
Isn't it obvious? You didn't stay.
You won't stay, and I don't know who I am.
The paper cut me up my arm,
And it was white as the sky used to be.
I'm bleeding.
What's happening to me?
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Cece, that is awesome.
Because without the cleansing of my veins,
I know I can't go on again.
I can so relate ^^^
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Cece, you are an amazing poet. If you made a book, I would be the first in line to buy it!
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Thank you, Joey and Tia. ;)
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Cece, you are an amazing poet. If you made a book, I would be the first in line to buy it!
same here! This is very Bright Eyes-ish....I can hear Conor Oberst crooning it right now :D
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I'm heavily influenced by Mr. Oberst, so thank you. ;)
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you're welcome :)