And he woke up then Looked around He remembered when He last heard that sound He listened closely And stood right up He shuttered to feel He shutted it up And he walked out then Once more alone He clenched his wrists He felt withdrawn And then he ran Afraid to look back Afraid to admit He was on the wrong track And then it rained And drenched him to the skin He denied the state he was in. Then he grew tired He grew tired of it all He ached to move, He ached to fall Misleading promises and broken truth Tempting lies and forgotten youth To his knees and then to the ground he tried to remember the sound the sound. - Deirdre Rusk
WOW!!! i didn't know that Deirdre (whoever he or she is ) also writes poetry, i'm shock, and i have to say that i like what i've read. I think it's the same sound i hear, my lost youth, where has it gone? where is my fucking life that i cannot find. besos guapa
