Gashed emotions

July 31, 2012 § Leave a comment

Who am I trying to pretend?

I say myself

sought skies

it never answered me nigh

it is never lucid

I felt alive again.

 

I pretend a silver blade

it is made for my mind

for when it decides

for when it starts to recite

one pellucid knife

sheathed though prompt to slash,

it is told to my mind.

 

One of these days it took a train

and from the noise formed

could not stand to pretend

a gust with dust stationed in me

one no ceiling could shield.

 

For I never bought this blade

no cash could lay its dirty hands

and those blister shall slowly heal

until then I keep skinning the hopes

skinning lucid in every train.

 

But, o, fear I feel

the blade someday will lose

its sharpened silver edge

and my mind will smile at me

bragging its win

and torn apart from logic once again I will be.

 

Thought-Laceration.

The coffee in my table awaits me

it is getting impatient

the mug remembers me

the blade still has its sharp

and it has been cutting some emotions

I get from getting on those trains of mine

 

For some time it will keep gashing,

cutting,

bringing down emotions,

until I bear no more.

 

Key.

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