i wish i could say i was different;
that your inspiration is gone
but it's not
the way things feel is still the same
floating memories in the wind
on a carousel of severed memories
(wasn't that a load of shit?)
even complex metaphors don't change things
i find the simple things hurt more;
everything hurts more
care for a rhyme?
well, you're gone
nothing can change that
i can rhyme for you
sing for you
cry for you
it's all the same song
empty tears
broken heart
i'm confused at all this mess
i laugh and it doesn't sound the same
running out of inspiration here ..
i'm looking at the clock now
tick--tock--
let's close our eyes
come back to earth
and this poem can be nothing but a dream
-----
It really sucks when someone dies by their own choice. You never get over it. I'll never get over him. Our talks when we both dealt with insomnia. His warm spirit. Ah well. Anyway; that was just a short explaination for the shitty poetry.
