twisted
How could you ever twist me this way?
Answers become questions, things I'd not say.
I cannot explain my very own genocide,
I stand on the edge of my own suicide.
If I can't reveal my own horrid fear,
The end of myself draws ever near.
I break the rules of my own morbid game,
My life now it feels, straight down the drain.
I drugged myself, with everything known,
Is this really me, or just one of my clones?
The burning inside me is real all the same,
My life to this moment has been only shame.
No purpose, no goal, not even destiny,
I'm climbing the walls of my own sanity.
Why do you point and pretend to know me?
What purpose do I serve ending my own misery?
2007-12-28
09:07:45
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10 answers
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asked by
The Dark Prince
3
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry