jeffh12

Darkness creeps out the eyes of the young A single spark flies off the shard in my tongue And as I sit and ponder on what I have done I feel that my torment has only begun Have you ever felt the icy hand of death Reach up your sweater or up your dress To touch you in ways that would make a catholic confess Or Job to think that its only a test The things I’ve seen are like a washing machine Where the bleach turns things green when they should come out clean But underneath the greed there's a desperate need to bleed out this urge to feed and to splurge on things that in hindsight seem utterly absurd I don't need all these pills, I don't need all these vices, I don't need to listen to Nike's unethical devices, I don't even need the news to know I’m in crisis. I just need my pen to act as my blade and maybe soon it'll save the day from the hordes of demons that creep through my mind that mock me even as I write this rhyme and when I feel it is finally my time I’ll walk outside and put up a sign that says I’ve finally cut a hole in the sky to place my straw inside and finally be happy for once before I die.

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