It’s dark and deep Desperation dies in the lap of disappointment The muffled drum still beats I still breathe But that feeling of being alive I guess I dropped it somewhere during the struggle That august night and now it’s gone I fight myself everyday I am my biggest enemy My memory takes me down to those never before seen roads and I feel something breaking inside me I dope myself at night to escape that excruciating journey that reminds me of my perfection that I had long before I turned into a poet
Something was not polite in signs. The smell of incarcerated bed of gods was floating down. A subdued shadow of black moon was climbing on the window. And each house had offered a son, to rage a war of retribution.