Friday, August 27, 2010

This wound is like
an open sore
a wound I've picked at
a thousand times before

The blood thickens
and dries,
mixes in with my tears
as a thousand hearts die.

What do you say
to the delusions
that come in the night?
The futures what they show you
but you know they can't be right.

So you pick yourself
up off the floor
and try to go on
like you have before

But the metaphors and the cliches
are beating down your door
you fight back
but just think about it more

Now your focus is gone
and your pep has died
this is the result
when an angel has lied.

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