razerwing
Supernova
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2011
- Location
- Somewhere over the rainbow.
Not sure how I made this, but whatever. Enjoy the inner workings of the brain.
---------------------------------------
What goes on behind
The closed doors of my mind,
Are none of your concern.
Broken, beaten, bloody, yet not dead,
The brain still functions.
Forever pursued, hated
Due to the fact my mind
Is set on a different track?
Tell me, does it make sense yet?
To have but a sliver of hope in your hand?
Nothing to call home?
No one to care for, or to care for you?
Yes, It is worth it.
The tiny sliver of hope,
Small yet sharp.
With this hope, I can avenge the loss of my screws.
The looseness of the mentality.
Always hated, forever secluded.
Not alone, but still so lonely.
To wander around, searching but not finding.
Such is the fate of those who 'flow'.
The thought makes me sick.
My mind vomits at the mere sight,
Of those who blend.
Uniforms, may they be burned.
May those who calm and change nature be damned.
While they eternal war goes on,
He I sit, twiddling my thumbs.
Secluded behind a high wall.
Forever cast out.
'Better for me,' I call out.
'It will not be me who feed the worms!'
And I sit,
And I wait,
And wait,
And wait,
For someone to talk to me.
I long to hear a voice through the concrete wall,
A tap,
A yell,
A moan,
Anything.
Anything to tell me,
I am still a human,
That I am still alive.
---------------------------------------
What goes on behind
The closed doors of my mind,
Are none of your concern.
Broken, beaten, bloody, yet not dead,
The brain still functions.
Forever pursued, hated
Due to the fact my mind
Is set on a different track?
Tell me, does it make sense yet?
To have but a sliver of hope in your hand?
Nothing to call home?
No one to care for, or to care for you?
Yes, It is worth it.
The tiny sliver of hope,
Small yet sharp.
With this hope, I can avenge the loss of my screws.
The looseness of the mentality.
Always hated, forever secluded.
Not alone, but still so lonely.
To wander around, searching but not finding.
Such is the fate of those who 'flow'.
The thought makes me sick.
My mind vomits at the mere sight,
Of those who blend.
Uniforms, may they be burned.
May those who calm and change nature be damned.
While they eternal war goes on,
He I sit, twiddling my thumbs.
Secluded behind a high wall.
Forever cast out.
'Better for me,' I call out.
'It will not be me who feed the worms!'
And I sit,
And I wait,
And wait,
And wait,
For someone to talk to me.
I long to hear a voice through the concrete wall,
A tap,
A yell,
A moan,
Anything.
Anything to tell me,
I am still a human,
That I am still alive.