deathhippie

A spontaneus poem.. Wee!

The sad angel has fallen down,
broken bones and sunderd soul.
A bloody mess upon the ground,
Can you not find your hole?

Lavish sounds and harsh street light,
down the gutter dirty water trickles.
through the bars you watch the city night,
do you wonder why lifes joys are so fickle?

From portishead, to just about anything,
you search life for the sad and depressing.
The Color Purple should leave your soul hoping,
does the book of answers stop your mourning?

In your fortress of solitude laughter rings back,
ricocheting off the throne room wall.
The queen of misery sits, her demeanor black,
but to the side does all of your hollow joy fall?

Tuck your wings back and feel the cold stone,
benath the heels of your caloused soul.
Find the foundation of where your lifes grown,
and you will be able to weather lifes toll.