Thursday, April 02, 2009 . 20:56
A dream i had, my child it was, nurtured it was what i did and i was proud of it Sloughing hard in tears and pain, finally a glimpse of hope appear. Short lived was my child. How could i see my child cruelly and harshly being shot to death. I was incapable, weak and feeble to savage it. Involuntarily forced to bear whole scene right in front of me.
I yearn for it and i wanted to protect it yet i am not strong enough.
Now i had to embrace a child which wasn't mine to begin with.
The failure of my life
Fading into depression,
i cut my dream,
i cut my life,
its bleeding,
its turning pale.
yet its heals,
to form a scar.
that remains
till i falls into
the wooden box,
sealed with nail,
covered with dirt,
erected by a stone,
overgrown with grass.
remember me not,
for i am nameless,
for i am worthless,
for i am soundless.
The death of melancholy.
I yearn for it and i wanted to protect it yet i am not strong enough.
Now i had to embrace a child which wasn't mine to begin with.
The failure of my life
Fading into depression,
i cut my dream,
i cut my life,
its bleeding,
its turning pale.
yet its heals,
to form a scar.
that remains
till i falls into
the wooden box,
sealed with nail,
covered with dirt,
erected by a stone,
overgrown with grass.
remember me not,
for i am nameless,
for i am worthless,
for i am soundless.
The death of melancholy.
Julien.L