Deep inside my grave of a mind,
In the mist no man shall find.
Under six feet of anger and isolation,
I crawl out of my captation.
I cast my soul to thrive,
To only be shown with a lie.
My epitaph is carved in hate,
When my arrival, this tells my fate.
"Here shall you observe this,
As you carry around an empty fist.
And by the day you truly die,
You well soon raise thy fist."
To be Continued...
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Poetry From Me...
No one seems to read them anymore.
Poems left and right but no where to go.
Either read them...
Or...well...I don't know.
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