No One

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  • Gothic

    No One

    The metalic taste of blood sweet on my toung.
    Warm flowing down my hands.
    My vains open for the world to see.
    I might as well be in some deep dark corner.
    No one sees me.
    No onesees my pain.
    No one sees my blood.
    No one hears me scream.
    No one sees my tears.
    A life so empty it hurts.
    A love so lost it flys.
    A blinding stab straight to the heart.
    A slow painful cut full to the huilt with gore.
    The body lies at the floor at your feet.
    And even then No One sees me die.

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    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    Lynn’s Poems (10)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Save My Soul 2
    My Everything 1
    The Real Me 1
    No One 1
    Silence 2
    Spent Youth 0
    Pond Of Red 0
    In Hell 0
    Live 1
    Guardian 1

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