A dream too good to be true

Awakened by the light of the early morn'

Lost always in the wonders of you

A thought too good to be born....

I was wounded with no one to turn to

The thunder and lightning were just too much

I was confused and had no one to turn to

Except the first one who touched me.

So here I am, in my own little hell

For time without end, til it freezes over

I could beg to be freed from this seclusion

But you have no remorse or sympathy

For a poor,small fool like me...

It's my sin, my curse, my uneventful life

That makes me cry at the strangest times

Knowing what I do and seeing what I don't want to

Wandering in this crazy world alone

With no hand, no heart, no soul to hang on to.

I could wither away and die

Like the flowers in the winter

And no one would be there to catch me fall

Or to mourn over my grave.

It's my curse, my sin, my unforgivable life

That makes me desperate at the wrong times.

(Note:This is a rough draft to a poem I wrote years ago. I have every intention of going back and revising it so more than likely,I will wind up having many versions of this particular poem.)

raw || truth
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Past Memories:

2006-01-13 - Fear In My Skin
2006-01-10 - The Moon - Our Silent Audience
2005-12-14 - Promise
2005-12-11 - Pure Bliss
2005-08-31 - In This Grave