The tears that escape my eyes.
Might as well be black.
I'd simply end my life.
To bring my sister back.
It burns beneath my skin.
The blood within my veins.
An endless aching soul.
Like the breath of silent rain.
It drenches me with emotion.
And I can't seem to scream it out.
I thought expressing what you feel.
Was what writing's all about.
It is every so often.
That nothing's what it seems.
I wish I wouldn't be left.
With yet another broken dream.
There are so many different ways.
To describe how I feel.
About life itself.
Yet mine doesn't seem too real.
It hurts when I cry.
And it also hurts to breathe.
I didn't know her long enough.
To think she'd ever leave.
And now she walks in Heaven.
She can answer when I pray.
I continue wondering about her.
Even to this very day.
I don't know why I can't forgive myself.
For writing like I do.
I guess it just comes naturally.
The only thing I know is true.
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Book of the Unknown
I write about things happening in my life, or secrets, or song lyrics. Everything is usually based around poetry, though..
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Deliquium
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