Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Am I still here?
My head could just fall
Off and roll away,
Wave bye-bye to sanity
And plunge into
A black death.
A forever sleep that
Can heal the scars of
Living in this world,
Dealing with those people
And suffering greatly
From myself.
I remember where home is
On the other side
Of the fence, but,
I fear I may end myself
Before I get the
Chance to see it
Again, to feel
Happiness.
It makes me cry, but,
I'm already too fond of
These tears, these wounds
That broken glass,
This broken heart,
The rusty razor, so I
May never know anything
But the pain
I medicate myself with.
I have two hands and
With both, I've reached
Out for help but
Both were slapped
Away and even when I
Scream for assistance, I
Am often turned away.
Those bastards,
I forgave them all.
You didn't put me here,
In the middle of black
Silence and desperation,
But you helped
Keep me here,
While I waste away
My skin and wish
For something small and
Scarless.
Perhaps I am still
Looking for hope,
Looking in all dark
Corners, and a few
Bright ones.
I've looked where
Prayers,
Dreams,
And wishes couldn't reach.
I was met with
Anger for my ways
And choices and it
All came down to me
Wiping away tears and
Blood stains.
And no one
Was the wiser.
My secrets,
Not secrets at all! Ha!
So while you stare at
All these scars
(I put them there)
I produced lies and
Called them truths and
Deemed them precious.
Oh what the foolish
Go through, to
Maintain insanity!
And you, my dear, you
Stood idly by
And wondered when it
Would end.
Am I still here? It has no
End.
September 11, 2006
Suge
Off and roll away,
Wave bye-bye to sanity
And plunge into
A black death.
A forever sleep that
Can heal the scars of
Living in this world,
Dealing with those people
And suffering greatly
From myself.
I remember where home is
On the other side
Of the fence, but,
I fear I may end myself
Before I get the
Chance to see it
Again, to feel
Happiness.
It makes me cry, but,
I'm already too fond of
These tears, these wounds
That broken glass,
This broken heart,
The rusty razor, so I
May never know anything
But the pain
I medicate myself with.
I have two hands and
With both, I've reached
Out for help but
Both were slapped
Away and even when I
Scream for assistance, I
Am often turned away.
Those bastards,
I forgave them all.
You didn't put me here,
In the middle of black
Silence and desperation,
But you helped
Keep me here,
While I waste away
My skin and wish
For something small and
Scarless.
Perhaps I am still
Looking for hope,
Looking in all dark
Corners, and a few
Bright ones.
I've looked where
Prayers,
Dreams,
And wishes couldn't reach.
I was met with
Anger for my ways
And choices and it
All came down to me
Wiping away tears and
Blood stains.
And no one
Was the wiser.
My secrets,
Not secrets at all! Ha!
So while you stare at
All these scars
(I put them there)
I produced lies and
Called them truths and
Deemed them precious.
Oh what the foolish
Go through, to
Maintain insanity!
And you, my dear, you
Stood idly by
And wondered when it
Would end.
Am I still here? It has no
End.
September 11, 2006
Suge
Comment On This Poem ---
Am I still here?
Am I still here?
