PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Traffic moves so slow in the city of the forgotten

Souls fly themselves, no need to burn

We all stand tall, there is never need for repercussion

As the heart skips a beat, it seems the tables have turned

Skipping tracks, one lane to the next

Across the grass, you can hear the bell fast

Through season change, the leaves decay

The sky grew dark but the hour stayed the same

The music screaming through my ears, it was cold in the night

There was no hope, I was going insane

With or without you, there was nothing you could do

The pen was shaking, the story wrote itself



Sinking water, deep submarine,

On the hydrogen jukebox you can hear the sounds of a feared teen

The last hit of the night was taken

below the city of the forgotten

Mississippi blues could save us now

But this deep down, it would never be found  

If only we would have joined that congress of sorrows

Books of knowledge, you would think they could save mankind

But our questioned existance still lerks around, without trade of adolescence

Lost in the city of the forgotten