Submissions by twurminator
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Must be
You must be better, the way you steal their attention.
I must be bitter, the way I failed to mention.
No one stops for a minute when a second is too long.
Everyone takes their time yet their always on the run.
Admiring advice, yet I'm far from aroused.
An abomination of grammar will taunt your very voice.
The long lived night settles down to get mellow.
The breathe of my dreams drowns silent from the wrath of a pillow.
I must be bitter, the way I failed to mention.
No one stops for a minute when a second is too long.
Everyone takes their time yet their always on the run.
Admiring advice, yet I'm far from aroused.
An abomination of grammar will taunt your very voice.
The long lived night settles down to get mellow.
The breathe of my dreams drowns silent from the wrath of a pillow.
67 reads
0 Comments
40 winks
Staying up past bedtime
just to spend the night alone.
Whispers from the darkness
taunt me for my throne.
Some will say I have the blues,
But the only color I see is black...
The room is a mess,
from sorting out my issues.
A Cloudy outline of visions.
The incipient of obscurity
and the thought of 40 winks.
Starless skies just mosey on in...
I think I think too much,
But there I go again.
Staying awake all night
just to dream all day.
just to spend the night alone.
Whispers from the darkness
taunt me for my throne.
Some will say I have the blues,
But the only color I see is black...
The room is a mess,
from sorting out my issues.
A Cloudy outline of visions.
The incipient of obscurity
and the thought of 40 winks.
Starless skies just mosey on in...
I think I think too much,
But there I go again.
Staying awake all night
just to dream all day.
76 reads
1 Comment
Breakfast for the damned
If it weren't for the little things,
life would be much easier.
Especially everything holding me together...
Imperfection shines bright in a world so tarnished,
Never counting for credit when the seasons run dry.
A self starter of solitude and a king of corpses.
Nothing here becomes rational...
Distant distractions hit so close to home,
It's a knock at the door of the unsound mind.
It's the roar of the beast at the rise of dawn.
It's breakfast for the damned.
life would be much easier.
Especially everything holding me together...
Imperfection shines bright in a world so tarnished,
Never counting for credit when the seasons run dry.
A self starter of solitude and a king of corpses.
Nothing here becomes rational...
Distant distractions hit so close to home,
It's a knock at the door of the unsound mind.
It's the roar of the beast at the rise of dawn.
It's breakfast for the damned.
109 reads
0 Comments
Starvation
Try breathing the air that sets my mind on fire...
Its the burning mass of a mental breakdown...
A rage to make you curious...
Beaten to a pulp, with morals and values.
Waiting for my collapse...
The displeasure bleeds out as reality sinks in.
Broken and weakened, all for my starvation.
Its the burning mass of a mental breakdown...
A rage to make you curious...
Beaten to a pulp, with morals and values.
Waiting for my collapse...
The displeasure bleeds out as reality sinks in.
Broken and weakened, all for my starvation.
138 reads
2 Comments
Day of peace
In the depths of the deep,
The debt we owe is not cheap.
For we pay the price,
And the time is ours.
Hoping for that day of peace...
A scene to be seen,
A sight to be sought.
A life to be lived,
And a life to be bought...
Drowning in the sea of life,
I think I may, I think I might.
The debt we owe is not cheap.
For we pay the price,
And the time is ours.
Hoping for that day of peace...
A scene to be seen,
A sight to be sought.
A life to be lived,
And a life to be bought...
Drowning in the sea of life,
I think I may, I think I might.
132 reads
2 Comments
Too loud
The day is turning black
and the moon will soon fade,
Times are getting hard
with the darkest of parades.
For I could never rest
and never sleep,
But tonight I live to be torn to piece.
The tune to my life could never be betrayed,
even though sometimes too loud,
and muffled from the grave.
One day I'll have my way with words,
but they will never have their way with me.
and the moon will soon fade,
Times are getting hard
with the darkest of parades.
For I could never rest
and never sleep,
But tonight I live to be torn to piece.
The tune to my life could never be betrayed,
even though sometimes too loud,
and muffled from the grave.
One day I'll have my way with words,
but they will never have their way with me.
103 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by twurminator