And I looked into the pit of pits.
The blackest scariest darkness I have ever seen.
The devil himself wouldn't live there.
I Can't see the bottom,
Or even hear the echo of my thoughts.
My thoughts, hopes and dreams have all died here.
As my soul has swallowed them all in their infancy.
Too feeble and sickly to survive the real world.
And my heart,
Beats its rythmic beat.
With nothing but blood to fill it.
The passions of a man in love are gone into the pit.
Nothing remains but the coldness of me.
And Strange as it is...
I like it.
Note
Twitter
Facebook
Reddit
Digg
LiveJournal
MySpace
Report a Policy Violation
the news article as well as check out the individual pieces. We understand that each day you may not be able to check out each and every one of the pieces, everyone has their own things going on. We just ask that you make an attempt to help support the growing Literature community.
Follow us on Twitter
Become a fan on Facebook
Comments
--
Art defines our reality, who we are, where we are going, as how sad defines happy... --It is our counter-existance.
Previous PageNext Page