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Innermost
Life stops at a halt somewhere,
Dying by the hands of your mind.
It's a tug-of-war to even make it out alive;
In the battlefield of thoughts, where shadows loom,
Battling the silence of an inner gloom. Simple things
are lost;
fallen trees surround us all, only those who wish not to see, witness the lifeless weeds.
Depth of emotions cut the weak; acoustic notions play underneath. Cherub angels spin around my bed, shooting with accuracy, wanting my head—
Delusions I can't put to rest.
Where does this lead? Blank spaces replace the stars that used to gleam. I pulled the lever to carry on, but instead, the sky grabs my arm, luring me in with the undeceiving wind.
Life is a beautiful lie; wishful thinking dries my tearful eyes. One can hurt a thousand times,
The garden of words whispers, "Well, at least you're alive."
© starrose
Dying by the hands of your mind.
It's a tug-of-war to even make it out alive;
In the battlefield of thoughts, where shadows loom,
Battling the silence of an inner gloom. Simple things
are lost;
fallen trees surround us all, only those who wish not to see, witness the lifeless weeds.
Depth of emotions cut the weak; acoustic notions play underneath. Cherub angels spin around my bed, shooting with accuracy, wanting my head—
Delusions I can't put to rest.
Where does this lead? Blank spaces replace the stars that used to gleam. I pulled the lever to carry on, but instead, the sky grabs my arm, luring me in with the undeceiving wind.
Life is a beautiful lie; wishful thinking dries my tearful eyes. One can hurt a thousand times,
The garden of words whispers, "Well, at least you're alive."
© starrose
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