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Open Poetry #49
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Damien Page
Junior Member
since 2014-03-30
Posts 22


0 posted 2014-03-30 10:43 PM


This is a song I wrote for my album. Tell me what you think?

Lyrics:
Watching the snakes as they slither past..
Tear drops of envy leaking slowly inside my liquor glass
Longing for what I wish I had
Thinking if I had a different past, maybe I wouldn't think and live so bad
My fragile love stopped
and now I'm a wooden marionette controlled by strings made of blood drops
Misery effected me heavily, made the rest of me
denounce the Entity I once held so dear to me
And you notice me, witnessing my soul just leak..
I swear to God, I can hear you when I go to sleep..
Staring hopelessly at the wall with a broken dream
Known to be the bad guy, but I don't even know what's me
Can't believe it happened again
A girl saw a block of marble, but didn't see the statue within
and now I'm cracking my skin, actually having a grin
at the pain that I feel, feeling the madness begin
Yet it seems, I'm masochistic...
Or is humanity like that? They feel the pain and then they want to miss it
It's a cryptic feeling and when you get it
A minute is an Eon when your mentality's in it..
Dripping pain, from a different vein, not your heart
or your arms, but your soul that's riddled with all the scars
Was a hateful child, chained in rage
with a blade, but was hiding with a painted smile
And it's take a while, for all the pain to fade, inside
I wait so wide awake, creating wild
Hateful styles that I wish I could break, because I'm not this
What's the point of even living if you're toxic?
I've had it with a lot of you
Bring my dead sister back if you think that's nothing's impossible
Until then, stop giving me false hopes
and pipe dreams, 'cause they all broke when I lost hope
The glass is empty, but it's filled with air.
and that's real, but I don't see it, so it still isn't there
Even as a millionaire
I'd still hate the fact that it cost me a million tears
What's the point of this?
Getting thrown in a boiling oil pit, survive but want to indulge in it
Where's the happiness? Where's the love at
Why am I trying to hold an anvil with a thumb tack?
I'm realizing you're a poltergeist
and this whole time I tried to hold a rope of light

but this is where the pain stops
'Cause when I'm put in a grave at least my body will stay inside the same spot
this is where the pain stops
when I'm put in a grave at least my body will stay inside the same spot
this is where the pain stops
when I'm dead in the grave at least my body decays inside the same spot
this is where the pain stops
when I disappear, nobody will know, you're never gonna relate, stop.
You're never gonna relate stop..
and I'm sick of being stuck inside the rain...

© Copyright 2014 Damien Page - All Rights Reserved
DaysofView
Member
since 2014-04-01
Posts 433
Just A Slice Of The Pie
1 posted 2014-04-01 08:12 AM


Is there no end to pain and rain?

To call oneself a poet is a vain remark indeed. After you're dead, let others eulogize you as such if they feel you are worthy.

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