This poem I wrote a long time ago...
why is it that the world cannot shed the truth
the media's sending subliminals to adults and the youth
the next day you find.
something that haunts your mind.
someone is lost, someone is missing
of your memories you are reminiscing
the tradgey quite apparent
when you realize it's your parent
gone, alone, nowhere to be found
in the streets, in an alley, on the ground
you wait for the day they finally come
but you've waited too long and have become numb
your memories slipping out of your head
as emptiness creeps in instead
emotionless as a wall
you feel so small
dried up tears upon your face
nothing to prove in their trace
but the wet mascara on your chin
that doesnt hide how you feel within
the lost soul that has gone away
will never live to see another day
but all this time you were mislead
and realized you wound up dead
Post edited at 9:20 pm on Aug. 28, 2008 by ello paulie xx
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"I live in that solitude which is painful in youth,
but delicious in the years of maturity."