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Spilt Upon This Paper
10/30/2005 @ 2:59pm
By:
loves_the_lies66

The mention of this madness,
Drives me to insanity once again,
Maybe you know me, and maybe you don't,
Maybe you'll love me, and maybe you won't,
This isn't a sad poem, angry or happy,
But I hope it will just let you see,
Not everyone is exactly as they're meant to be,

What you see's not what you get,
Don't judge this book by it's cover,
There's more to me than this darkness,
There's more to me than these clothes,
I'm drowning in thoughts you would never understand,
Because most will never listen,

Will you hear me? Will you see me?
For what I really am?
Is this too much for you, to know my being,
The workings of my inner heart?
None have noticed an none will,
The pain I hold inside this chest,
The one that rises as I breathe,
The one that will fall when I die,

As the many years drift by,
This heart has never softened,
It's forever stretched tight within me,
Just waiting to break once again.
 
Copyright © 2025 loves_the_lies66, All Rights Reserved


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