Never knowing
The iron steel of the knife burries itself deep in my left tigh.
Warm blood runs over my hand and falls upon the ground.
A cutting pain spreads itself through my body and aching soul.
Never knowing,
Never loving,
Never stopping
Warm blood runs over my hand and falls upon the ground.
A cutting pain spreads itself through my body and aching soul.
Never knowing,
Never loving,
Never stopping
Reacties op dit gedicht
| tim balthazar: | Maandag, augustus 25, 2003 11:01 |
| this is beatuful, but really dark, probably, like your fealings but there's a spark in every single night find it, and live greetz |
|
Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: Soulles | 
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| Gecontroleerd door: christina | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 25 augustus 2003 | ||
| Thema's: | ||