sometimes
days like these
the darkness still comes back to me
entomb me
make this room for me
there's no room for me
musty choking earth and I can't breathe
must we do this
- - -
i can't see
- - -
days like these
the nightmare still comes back to me
my own breath lingers in my ear
my own transgressions
have brought me here
the warmth of fear and sweat
this would be death
this could be my death
sacrificed to make a point
and even in living I lost this part of me
the heart of me
in this darkness that still comes back to me
sometimes . . .
on days like these.
Copyright 2004 cre
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/385/36611 on Sunday July 06th, 2008 08:04 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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