The Sadness of It

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
hmmmmmmmm

Submitted: February 09, 2008

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Submitted: February 09, 2008

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dark and empty is its life
short and rasping is its breath
hard and violent is the beat of its heart
weak and petrified is in its stance
morbid and disgust are in its thoughts
wanting and yearning are in its woes
blindness and guilt are its way

This is whom it is
this is my creation
I have molded it to perfection
no one else to blame
no one else can see
I have created the perfect guilt
the perfect lie
the perfect lost soul
the perfect pain
the perfect sufforing
the perfect forsaken one

yet, you may see it
walking down the street
on a lonely path
in a crowded room
in a beautiful park
in your own house

but you will never know what it, truly is
it is my creation
my true and only drive in life
sadness surounds its every essense
pain weeps from every pore
torment swims within its veins
but you will never know that I am it
my own creator
my own damnation
my own executioner



me
Twisted Illusions
copyright August 7, 2007


© Copyright 2017 Twisted Illusion. All rights reserved.

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