To the grave

  • It’s like an old story I never told,
  • a thing I forgot as I grow too old.
  • A mere with a death wish inside
  • and just seconds apart from it.
  • If I leave into the night than,
  • what do I have to become to
  • stay alive in the dreams when
  • my memories came back to life.
  • When I was never strong enough
  • to pay attention to what counts.
  • What may be than really worth
  • of the decisions which bound me.
  • I crave for a morning light forever,
  • when I can listen to the music I hear
  • from the night I wish to feel ever
  • in my ears, wide open since my fear.
  • A lonely wanderer in an old man’s tale
  • to forget what was the beginning.
  • Trying to figure out where I failed
  • to be ready when it comes to the ending.
  • I crumble down to my knees that hurt
  • like the wind in my wounds open
  • and I may scream if it is what I need,
  • yet my scars are trying to hold me.
  • If just miserable in survival like a storm,
  • I move on while I am the pity myself.
  • Destroying starry heart and my home
  • to gaze at a lost paradise as I lied.
  • A casket for some, a coffin for me,
  • my pride burden into my love within.
  • As I speak I dry to bones of envy,
  • may I trust me in this at the end.
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