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I lay down as I remember
A time so long ago
Where we would walk the dirt roads
Holding, hand-in-hand
Every breathe would introduce
The taste of dust and flesh into our mouths
Over, and over again, we would smile
As our breathes could be seen in the dying light
We would walk, hand-in-hand
As the jack-o-lanterns along our path
Would smile at us, as the headless corpse
Danced and jumped about at its line of new heads
Choose one for himself, he could
As we sat by and laughed as each one did not fit
Untill he tried one on and smiled
Because it was just the right size
The whithered trees cracking base
Introduced to insects and spiders
As crows came to nest upon its dying twigs
To devour the feast whom found its home there
The dark trees were tinted red in the dying sun
As we would hop over the rocks and blackened earth
We would erase the clouds that hung overhead
To paint pictures with the stars in the sky
The hollowed corpses that lay about
Cracked as their skin of dust and porcelein
Cracked and fell, ribcage into itself
And their faces touched the insides of their own necks
We would walk into the forest of dead trees
As they cracked under the sound of our footsteps
We would cut them with the knives that we carried
And read the letters they formed with their blood
We would read their stories of why Hell was bad
And what we could do to avoid damnation
But the more I listened, the more I wondered
Have we really done so much as not be damned ourselves?
We would leave the forest in fear of their stories
Only to return again and again, holding hand-in-hand
We would cut our own legs to imitate the trees there
And write out our own stories for each other to read
With our mouths sewn shut we would smile at one another
Only wishing we could press our lips together
But in silence we would gaze each other in the eyes
And tell our stories through our blood
As our blood soaked the earth, leaving our stories behind
We knew others would come to read them after us
And pass it down for generations to come
But we knew they would scarcely believe the words to be true
Each step would always become harder if our hands seperated
As the taste of dust and flesh was introduced to our tongues
We wondered where all the villigers were
But we knew they rested miles under the stone crust of earth
Wherever that dusty trail had led us, it's where we our now
And wherever that dusty trail continues to lead
I may not wish to take another step
In fear for what will leave my hands empty and cold
Wherever that dusty trail is leading us
I only fear that we should have long ago turned around
I believe now that in all the years we traveled
We just may have walked in the wrong direction afterall
- by l_Shamrock_l |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 05/03/2009 |
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- Title: Paint Me A Pretty Picture
- Artist: l_Shamrock_l
- Description: This is the first free-verse I've written in a long, long time. It was inspired heavily by AFI's prelude to their hidden track on their CD "Sing the Sorrow", the song titled "This Time Imperfect". Please rate fairly and leave a comment. Also, check out my other poems and writings and comment/rate those as well, as it would much appreciated. Thank you.
- Date: 05/03/2009
- Tags: paint pretty picture poem writing
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Comments (2 Comments)
- Francesca167 - 05/05/2009
- It's very beautiful biggrin
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- libraryprincess - 05/03/2009
- in a way its a poem about traveling with their love
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