PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I am stuck in some unsweet dream
There's an eathquake in my body,
shakes my brittle frame
I watch the birds land and scattered
I pray they can carry me home, someday
I do, I want to fly
away.

They can eat what's left of me,
by the telephone wire
You left me
to die there
while you wrote secret poems
about nothing
I cannot heal it
I cut the wrong string
I bled out by the sidewalk and
then the streetlight turned red

And I know that I am
the culprit for your crimes
And I can't decide if its a
loaded gun or a
loaded letter that will bring you back

I just sigh,
and watch the candle burn
and write something terrible
about how I feel
I only do it, because I know that this
one is really for me
and I have not shown my cards in a long time
I can't keep up this stoned face,
drowning in its own tears behind the curtain
I can't do it.
Forgive me.