It's better to die
Than be in a world
With high exceptions
Someone who loves has patiently
Been waiting to cry to sleep secretly
Singing the songs of the beloved love
& wants peace but not by any dove
And love is all they got
Rather than some gold-bearing pot
This world is nothing
If not a huge maze
I don't know how long you'll be
How long I have my own days
Do we kill or do we talk
With no words but just a
Gaze? or are we us fighting
Among us till we bleed through
The sheets of our deathbeds?
Hearts are made of stone
They say so we make it on
Our own all hope's gone
Are we humans or are we
Monster-faced beings who come
from outer space?
It's better to die
Then live in a world
With high exceptions
Spread our angelic wings
And fly to the heavens
In the light
So luminous, so bright
That monsters' eyes sting
In one sight
If I can't be angel
I'll accept my space deep within Hell
If I can't get wings
I'll still have a story to tell
If I can't have family
I'll live with demons as my own
If I will sleep on foam
And sit on my throne
Then I have will to lay
My head on stone
Demons feast my bones
Celebrate my fear
Mourn on my death
But help my mind to fly.
Where it wants to go
Water in a brook the way it flows
I hope it's okay if I lay
Close my eyes and drift off far away
But I wonder will I be missed
If I lose myself among the foggy mist
On a winter's night dark and gloomy
Is where you can see right through me.
YOU ARE READING
Fuzzy Head
PoetryA collection of original poetry by a young literary enthusiast who just wants to let out some feelings and thoughts through the literary art that is poetry.
