Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Life is...
Life is your heart,
Broken in my hand.
My hand turning into
A fist,
Feeling the pumping,
Dying heart become mush
In my palm.
The mess, I dispose of,
Without thinking of the
Face attached to the wreckage,
For I've poisoned my own heart,
And no longer have to feel
If I don't want to.
4-2-10
Broken in my hand.
My hand turning into
A fist,
Feeling the pumping,
Dying heart become mush
In my palm.
The mess, I dispose of,
Without thinking of the
Face attached to the wreckage,
For I've poisoned my own heart,
And no longer have to feel
If I don't want to.
4-2-10
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Life is...
Life is...
