Dying, by bedazzled
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I wait.
Dust trickles down my spine,
powders my 'lashes
and I wait,
statuesque,
watching the spiders spin
gleaming gossamer lies.
There is no sound
except for the torrent
in my head;
a soundless scream,
a dagger mantra.
My brain fills
with blood.
I stand
in black and white,
all colour stolen.
I barely even
breathe.
Darkness.
And still I wait,
without moving,
feet sinking into the floor.
Frozen by the icy truth,
paralysed by pain.
I wait for time,
for music,
for colour
and for light.
But mostly
I wait,
for you to say
you were wrong.
For you to say,
winding ribbons
around my broken heart,
you want me back,
you still love me.
But still I wait,
and still
I die.
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Posted: 2008-12-14 04:58:55 UTC |
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2008-12-18 16:49:11 | Tyler Cedric Golden |
hmmm a confusing and yet interestind and still understandable....plz read this new poem i just wrote that you make very much like similar in feeling to this one called What Must Be Done!!!....i think i did a fair job but i would like a writer as good as you to put your own honest personal opinion on it....ty.....very nice poem.... |