Burn, Burn, Burn

She speaks a smoke of clouds and ideals,

As time bears down on the restlessness of her soul,

Words become notions and theories;

Philosophies of everything we’re rushing past

in the search for better days

She wounded my soul in her search for goodness

as I swirl in this cesspool, bathing in sin,

Drowning in myself,

all I cared of was her,

Sugars taste bitter since I tasted her lips,

Seconds are regrets I’m not beside her,

Moments become lost in the blink of her eyes

As I slip away to sell my dreams for pennies on the pound

I’m wheezing; she reeks of purity

If I were to drip ink in the sink in which she bathes

There would be protests and pickets at my door

My face would cover newspapers, signs and t-shirts,

I am an outlaw, who must leave her alone forever more

Reviews

[Uneek]

This is soo good! I love the struggle thats shown between selfishly wanting something something and knowing you shouldnt (morally) tarnish it. Great peice!