I first came here
When i was eleven
I used to be sincere
But I became more clever
I can’t endure this place
It’s gutter of my thoughts
My hands hold heavy mace
I’m cutting my own throat
I see around here’s
Such a disordered mess
But I could care less
It was my own thought
Together with depression
I know it is my fault
It makes so bad impression
You’re guilty, awkward, lonely
They’re killing me with it
And things I can say only
Are I’m so pleased to meet
They keep to slaughter gently
Not asking them to stop
It seems I like it, sadly
I feel I’m gonna flop
I’m prisoner of minds
I’m locked inside my head
And I still say I’m fine
But honestly I’m dead
I first came here
When I was eleven
I haven’t had this fear
Intending to have travel
I wish I didn’t come
I’ll never back again
You know, it is your home
Your scars, your tears, your pain
Внутри Моей Головы
© Copyright: Алиса Вайнкеллер, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115110710258
Свидетельство о публикации №115110710258
Рецензии