The Music presses me to give in. .
The dance tells me to live sin.
Can I really deny fate?
Don’t worry. . I’ll be late . .
No one left to save.
How am I everybody’s slave?
Waiting’s over for the end.
No more waiting for my hurt to mend.
Sometimes I want to die.
Why do I even try?
Now they let me in . .
Forgiven for the sin.
I have tricked fate.
Sun is rising so late.
Now it’s I they need to save.
Those others tried to make me a slave.
My blood flows free in the end.
My wounds far to deep to mend.
Now it’s time for me to die.
At least I know they still try. .
‘In the end she gives a smile after walking the last mile, and grinning through and through she hands the torch burning brightly on to you.’
Copyright 2003 Angelic Darkness
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/121/9732 on Friday September 05th, 2008 10:27 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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