The Deepest Well

The Deepest Well The Deepest Well

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Houses:

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Houses:

Tags

Summary

My heart can't tell,
The secret of my hell,
My soul they want to sell,
Fire and brimstone they want me to smell,
But I won't.
Am I ill or am I well,
Will the toll of the bell,
Be what I hear as my eyes swell?
I hope not.
I don't want it to end that way,
But do I even have a say,
In whether or not I die today,
or tomorrow or the next day?
No I don't.
Do I have a say,
In the price that I pay?
Do you have debts to repay?
Were you caught?
You're a pit,
In a jungle you sit,
In your water they spit,
Your teeth you grit,
Are you sore?
They're playing a skit,
Of you, do you see it?
Does it make you mad, even just a bit?

No, but you do.

Share :
Twitter

Tags

Summary

My heart can't tell,
The secret of my hell,
My soul they want to sell,
Fire and brimstone they want me to smell,
But I won't.
Am I ill or am I well,
Will the toll of the bell,
Be what I hear as my eyes swell?
I hope not.
I don't want it to end that way,
But do I even have a say,
In whether or not I die today,
or tomorrow or the next day?
No I don't.
Do I have a say,
In the price that I pay?
Do you have debts to repay?
Were you caught?
You're a pit,
In a jungle you sit,
In your water they spit,
Your teeth you grit,
Are you sore?
They're playing a skit,
Of you, do you see it?
Does it make you mad, even just a bit?

No, but you do.

Content

Submitted: January 30, 2007

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: January 30, 2007

A A A

A A A


My heart can't tell,
The secret of my hell,
My soul they want to sell,
Fire and brimstone they want me to smell,
But I won't.
Am I ill or am I well,
Will the toll of the bell,
Be what I hear as my eyes swell?
I hope not.
I don't want it to end that way,
But do I even have a say,
In whether I or not I die today,
or tomorrow or the next day?
No I don't.
Do I have a say,
In the price that I pay?
Do you have debts to repay?
Were you caught?
You're a bottomless pit,
In a jungle you sit,
In your water they spit,
Your teeth you grit,
Are you sore?
They're playing a skit,
Of you, do you see it?
Does it make you mad, even just a bit?

No, but you do.

 


© Copyright 2017 panterism27. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

The Booksie 2017 Poetry Competition

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by panterism27

Popular Tags