6/8/11
If believing
would save me
And hope
bring back sweet dreams
Must I embrace
the sorrows
that slowly drown me,
in a sea of agony?
Each unhealed wound
Reopens old scars
Surviving in a world
Where I'll never belong
Sweet lips
with a thin coat of salt
Kiss softly
every single cut
Dare I love,
and ignore the hate?
Wishing for warmth
in cold's embrace
A loss too great
I rather forget...
It's far too late
to save
what has been condemned.
Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Shadow | 0 | 10/04/2011 |
| Deep Thought | 0 | 10/04/2011 |
| Something Uncommon | 1 | 10/04/2011 |
| Short Story -10/1/11- | 0 | 10/04/2011 |
| Alive in My Soul | 0 | 10/04/2011 |
| When I Cry | 1 | 10/04/2011 |
| Last Wall -9/28/11- | 0 | 10/04/2011 |
| My Sanity -10/16/10- | 2 | 10/03/2011 |
| 6/8/11 | 0 | 10/03/2011 |
| 2/27/11 | 0 | 10/03/2011 |
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