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Guest
Guest
This was written a couple of weeks ago, in one of my fits of dark despair.
The darkness inside
Once again has risen.
The shadows consume
Everything I ever was.
My bleeding heart,
Tears open every day,
At only the thought,
Of all my mistakes.
You think I would learn,
But I never do.
I suppose that's the fault,
Of the life that I live.
I push away those,
That have always cared.
And surround myself,
With cold, uncaring 'friends'.
It's actually a work in progress, that part being written, like I said, two weeks ago. Anyone feel free to tear it apart, or raise it up, as you will.
By the way, anyone ever notice that most of the GOOD amatuer writers usually do their best work in moments of despair, anguish, or hatred?
The darkness inside
Once again has risen.
The shadows consume
Everything I ever was.
My bleeding heart,
Tears open every day,
At only the thought,
Of all my mistakes.
You think I would learn,
But I never do.
I suppose that's the fault,
Of the life that I live.
I push away those,
That have always cared.
And surround myself,
With cold, uncaring 'friends'.
It's actually a work in progress, that part being written, like I said, two weeks ago. Anyone feel free to tear it apart, or raise it up, as you will.
By the way, anyone ever notice that most of the GOOD amatuer writers usually do their best work in moments of despair, anguish, or hatred?