An impression of James Dean
A man is walking alone
In his head only the rumours of
what they told him to believe last night
He only hears the story he wished he
never told a soul and now in fright
confused and bored with his thoughts he
stroles around in the rain
He's got nothing to gain, selfmade
scars that touch the pain
in his heart because he let it come this far
so far and still no end to the rejection
He is a shadow, the shadow of a man
once alive and now nothing more than a projection
of his gloomy figure on the dark walls around
darkness clothes him like a robe of
warm anonimity
His words his own enemy, he will ever be
alone
Reacties op dit gedicht
| Jroen: | Zondag, juni 20, 2004 13:14 |
| dude:| je heb je eerste dichtenpagina vol :) en met recht gij dicht als een david op de wijze van de kwieke terebinth *kuch* | |
| FrozenScar: | Zaterdag, juni 19, 2004 19:53 |
| Hmm.. Rakend. Echt goed neergezet met al die woorden enzo ;o) nee grapje echt, jou stijl is wonderbaaaaaarlijk!! *is beetje jaloers* Liefs, |
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Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: Cypher-punks | 
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| Gecontroleerd door: 260580 | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 19 juni 2004 | ||
| Thema's: | ||