The Cool

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by Hangman, May 12, 2010.

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  1. Hangman

    Hangman Well-Known Member

    The Cool

    Time stings my side, now that it’s too late to hide.
    I’m gripped by the feeling, as I stare into the ceiling.
    I count my wrist as I check my list.
    Why and why not it reads, my reason rot and actions leads.

    Into the pool, the red emotional cool.
    Where the pain is numb, just a faint whispering hum.
    Clock strikes four as blade begs for more, feel like a ***** and wish I could roar.
    This is not me, I’m innocent as before.
    So who keeps the score when I’m crashing to the floor?

    I try to scream, but it’s hopeless in this dream.
    The truth will be told, so I’ll try to be bold.
    But I will grow old in a world that is cold,
    and when I pass the test, I will die here like the rest.
     
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