Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Hell in a hand basket
I'm dead and I always have been;
A mere shadow floating sleeplessly
Upon the walls of disrepair.
People are flowers waiting to be picked,
Most just get trampled and
I look past all the beauty to collect
All the ugly just sitting there, waiting.
I throw it away, the world was
Made only to hold the lovely,
And not the disasterous and disdainful.
Handemade regrets fill my hand basket.
I walk away from all I've seen.
12-21-09
A mere shadow floating sleeplessly
Upon the walls of disrepair.
People are flowers waiting to be picked,
Most just get trampled and
I look past all the beauty to collect
All the ugly just sitting there, waiting.
I throw it away, the world was
Made only to hold the lovely,
And not the disasterous and disdainful.
Handemade regrets fill my hand basket.
I walk away from all I've seen.
12-21-09
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Hell in a hand basket
Hell in a hand basket