martes, 14 de noviembre de 2017

Forgotten

I sit tonight over this cold rock that's freezing the hell out of me.
I see the sun no rise, no matter how much I wait.
The night turns endlessly. The patience turns into desperation.
I hear the voices of the past behind my neck. They devour me slowly.
I watch the darkness fulfill my desires. It grows in me like death.

What should I do this time. To overcome this I whisper to the silence.
The echo of my voice awakens nothingness. Nothing new over the grass.
A foreign language for the weakness of the wind. Fragile, almost broken.
Asleep. Gone like words of love. Dead as poured blood. Forgotten.

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