Journal

Insomniac's Journal

Words birthed in the internal

His subconscious' dunk-tank

These words remained unranked

Articulate the contemplations

Of these waking frustrations

Pen in hand

Sleep be damned

These are the greatest thoughts in the land

But why do they come at 4 in the morning

Must write them down

And heed the warning

His memory won't serve him as well when he wakes

If only he knew what was at stake

Words, Words, and more still left to come

Cannot stop till he sees the sun

Sunken eyes

Blood shot red

Sleep finally comes to the walking dead

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Words He Should Have Said

Hello Miss lovely
Why can't you see me?
How can you
Ignore me so completely?
I'm tapping on your shoulder
I'm calling out your name
But I guess you can't hear me
Do you mean to cause such pain?

How many love songs
Do I have to sing?
To even have a chance
At this angel with one broken wing
For if she wasn't crippled
She would surely fly away
And leave me
With no more opportunities to say...

No comments:

Post a Comment