Tented Red

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Why does everything seem a weird tent of red.

Why do we know we will end up dead.

Why cant we have pure thoughts instead.

Submitted: February 20, 2007

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Submitted: February 20, 2007

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Why does everything seem a weird tent of red.

Why do we know we will end up dead.

Why cant we have pure thoughts instead.

How can we fix whats already done.

How can we  live without our precious sun.

And how is it that these memorys weigh a ton.

Clear my head of all of this.

Not even thinking again so i cant miss.

Gods wine and water all turned to piss.

Thrive with what you need.

Cut yourself if you wanna bleed.

Cast out your demon seed.

Finding the truth in a mist.

Faintly see a horrifying list.

Thinking of a razor blade across my wrist.

I know i am just a hazourdous waste.

And i cannot win over these demons that im faced.

Taunting me only with the thing i desire taste.

 

 


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