Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Messied
Inhale
Exhale
Breaths of fresh air
suffocating my mind while
I tell myself that
it's all in my head.
It must be a mess in there.
My brain so friend,
My mind unchained.
How hurtful this pressure has become,
Beating down upon my brain.
I haven't the wings to fly home.
I was alwasy going in nowhere cirles.
And it is a circle,
Neverending,
So I have no idea what's new
And what's the same,
Since my eye for detail has waned.
I try to tell myself that
it's all in my head.
And now I know what kind of mess
To expect.
May 29, 2007
Suge
Exhale
Breaths of fresh air
suffocating my mind while
I tell myself that
it's all in my head.
It must be a mess in there.
My brain so friend,
My mind unchained.
How hurtful this pressure has become,
Beating down upon my brain.
I haven't the wings to fly home.
I was alwasy going in nowhere cirles.
And it is a circle,
Neverending,
So I have no idea what's new
And what's the same,
Since my eye for detail has waned.
I try to tell myself that
it's all in my head.
And now I know what kind of mess
To expect.
May 29, 2007
Suge
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Messied
Messied