I can hear the music,
playing in my head...
That brick wall melody,
that leaves me dry and bled.
Back out, unsound, way past
The naive embrace,
clutched like the withering vine,
so doubted in commonplace.
That sorrowful harmony,
with mysterious limbs
running like mad
through my mind, so dim with fog.
In my wake do I hear that music
of the morbid and downtrodden sound...
Sweet, the symphony of my imagination...
the chaos, although so profound.
Stained, my face with the misery
Of this occupation of thought,
not much, yet the burdens are stiff
within the acidic net, am I forever caught.
YOU ARE READING
mid night poetry( part 1)
PoetryAbout mid night poetry :collection of dark poems that I use to write or have written at night ! "I'm different. I will give you my treasure chest of darkness first. If you can handle that, then I'l...
