sábado, 12 de janeiro de 2013

silver night

dreams of linen
comes sewing the night
faithless is he
who won't make things right
who don't know what to do
what is what
what he can fight for
and as I sit here
writing this poem
with candle light
wondering about the path
with tears
runnin through my eyes
I realize how pitiful this is
how terrified I am
It's weird
when life slips through
leaving no memories
leaving no bite
as if you weren't there
as if there was no time
like a spectre
the immortal man
standing there
watching friends die

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