Get up you yell to him.
Get up, my love, he hears
Get up off the dirt and stand.
So he gets up to face his fears.
Get up he will tell you.
Get up my love, he wants to say.
Get up for me,
Its what you're made of, see !
So you get up, and glance at divinity.
But when the night creeps around again,
And your ears don't have his voice in them,
You will hate your words,
His fears are now yours.
When the night creeps around again,
He will try to get up in vain.
He won't know what to fear,
Pain or loss of what is dear.
He won't know. You won't know.
Because you've been on the ground so long
Once you're up, you don't know where to go.
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An old one. Written for someone who wishes not to be tagged. Found it while cleaning my desk, finding that it still is kindasorta relevant, I post it here.
YOU ARE READING
A Left Brain
RandomSome random poems I come up with sometimes. About love and happiness and emo-ness and videogames. with a few TV tributes thrown in there for good measure.
