19 Sep 2007

I’ve searched high and low
I’ve searched the skies and further than that
I’ve checked under my pillow
I’ve wept with that tree. The weeping willow
Why isn’t the sun shining and c
aressing me with it's optimistic rays?
Where are you?

I am a bottle. Of thoughts.
And these over powerful thoughts are overflowing.
Drip. Drip. Dripping.

I aint alright coz life aint right.
It’s a simultaneous struggle.
A fight that I won’t win - my sword of truth belittles it self next to magnified lies.

Hope has not got any limbs.
Hope cannot walk one step, let alone walk all over my heart.
Hope is standing still and stagnant.
Hope is hungry,
Hope has not been fed hence is gnawing at itself.

But love is to be held responsible for murder.

zaza at 2:40 pm

0 angels shot me


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