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...The Broken...

Poetry By: LizLew


Submitted:Oct 24, 2011    Reads: 13    Comments: 3    Likes: 1   

A dying heart can breathe no more,
A shadowed face can only see yours.
A memory can yell and yell,
But in the end, you're going to Hell.
You made my life a living misery,
And everyone else is behind me.
You made me slice my wrist, day and night,
My soul turned black while yours glowed white.
Well, no more, I'm stopping now,
You've lost your power, you've lost your crown.
Go on, leave the dead to rot,
We want you here not.
You killed us all with your perfect life,
You're perfect husbands and your perfect wives.
We stayed behind to slice and slice,
Either with razors, scissors or knifes.
And you continued to judge us when we're just your art,
We're your puppets, wooden with no heart.
You made us who we are, and now you want us gone,
Well that's too bad, because we're your wish gone wrong.
You wanted us dead, but we were anyway,
We've just come back to made you the same.
Now you can feel the pain you don't understand,
Now you can feel your soul become damned.
You can suffer and hide from the light,
You can learn how to survive.
You can scream out in the pain you now live for,
You can be fascinated by blood and rain fall.
You know what? I'm enjoying all of this,
Because now you're dealing with your own shit.
But you aren't strong enough to handle the dark,
And as the 'normal' ones die, The Broken will laugh.


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