angeleyez084

Hopes Tragedy
2011-02-17 05:33:00 (UTC)

old poems i wrote in college

Pain.
A woe of uncertainty.
Everything that is felt, yet unheard.
A wind blowing the words around in our heads, chilling us to the core.
Rain.
A flow of certainty.
Everything that is felt, covered by the drops of sanity.
Cold, crystal, yet warming to think of its shield.
Hope.
A shot of idealism.
Take the shot, yet don't drink too much.
For certainly you will fall if you do.
Stumble from here to there, wishing for someone to catch you.
Love.
A hope of realism.
A realistic view on something of which one cannot describe.
Contradicting itself.
A cycle of which we cannot feel.
Pain, Rain, Hope, Love,
What do we live for now?
A gentle mark across a pale canvas release little rivers of crimson.
This is what she lives for.
A dangerous shot of acidic angst running through her vains.
This is what she lives for.
A tiny drop of medicated chaos surging through her mind.
This is what she lives for.
A sliver of light you have disposed to her world, casting her to a place
of self-revelation and awareness of what must be done...
This is what you both live for now.




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