Author Information
Linkin Park
why am I so very sure
that nobody truly cares about
this writhing soul that lies
beneath this soiled skin
lashed by the whips of bereavement?
I try so very hard to matter
yet my advances in courtship of glory
are rebuffed by a wave of
percelain hand in which the cracks
of lifes sorrows are forever etched
into these retinas starved of oxygen.
Ive a wondrous story to tell
of pride and hate and loss and dreams
a monument built by the hands of the guilty
who'd murder and artist for believeing
that the beauty of life and death
are naught but a child of chance
as countless planetoids vanish into dust
leaving us all alone to chase
that story that fled thier lips
and became what they said they want
yet know will bring doom upon them
as their sins will never be compensated
when the blade of recalcitrance
finds its latest flame.
