Romanticism through the glass Too many pills I drag my face along the surface That seperates us As I close my eyes And picture better days I knew nothing I can't write to you To pretend that I have the words To never do any justice It's horror So many things to say Nothing to say The sound of my own breath It's deafening To slay the child Sometimes I wish But often desire For you What will kill me next Has killed me all along Myself In a windowed world Where I have no eyes Nor any arms And I drag and drag and drag These words Useless Because they mean nothing And these ghosts will never leave By my own will Accomplishment void I'm sick of not knowing you Random orbs of thought And why not now Tomorrow seems so drab As if I knew
Garbage
8:55 p.m.//09.13.04
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