The sharpest guillotineA Poem by We are young.Bleed inside, but never out You ask me what the pain’s about The world is cruel, cold and mean And I offer my neck to the guillotine, Just to feel the final slice Hurts like rejection, which feels so nice Glitters like diamonds, this razorblade shine I realize this pool of blood is mine That drips like honey slow molasses Show the hurt through magnified glasses. Crouching low, it’s pale and dead Its raises up a grinning head Like a skull, with tombstone teeth, I wrap him in a shroud-like sheet To mask the eyes that see within I offer up the best to him. He sews me up with midnight thread And chains me to the lifeless dead So we may speak of hell and earth An idea that bound me right at birth- So many souls were doomed to die The moment they uttered their first cry And I was just another stone To write the words that proclaim ‘alone’, To withhold the right to come back home. So many souls will fall to bones And crawl back into rising dust These razorblades will one day rust So use them while your fingers grasp This despair in their cold clasp For a little longer, this pain will linger Slice a wrist, a thigh, a finger Only to see the swelling blood One cut, ten cuts, it’s never enough To express the misery you feel so deep It bleeds afresh when you’re asleep. Scattered like the fallen leaves Your conscience begs you, “pretty please- Save me from this endless day That lays me open in every way”. I crawl the path of the walking dead, I see the roaring flames ahead That devours those that lived in vain It smells regret like perfumed pain. The reaper and I are one in the same We roll the dice and play the game Kings and queens, we fall in line; A deal we never meant to sign To bind us to the melting moon We left the sacred earth too soon. We never meant to hurt or care This burden is too much to bear, And we are just the lonely souls That lay down in their graveyard holes. You think you’re walking on the dead? You are wrong. They’re overhead Watching as we waste our days While the thread of lie slowly frays Until mere slivers hold us here- It’s the encompassing doom I mostly fear Rather than the eyes of those Who fall before the pendulum slows Upon the neck of the tortured soul Who found it was his only goal To be the body in the county square Careless, headless, a man so rare. We are many, but we are few Compared to those who look like you And talk like you and dream like you And echo all the things you do. The guillotines scream for a living thing, And the church bells here will always ring To take in count this mounting death. The few. The proud. We’re all that’s left Still here to wander the empty streets That rise to replace the numbing beats That silence out your monotone Which whispers “You are all alone”. So bring the shining blades to me And blind my eyes so I can see. I sacrifice my beating heart Only to tear the world apart And fill the void with crimson red. The few. The proud. The living dead. © 2009 We are young.Featured Review
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Added on March 17, 2009AuthorWe are young.Peace Love Unity Respect, WAAboutI'm not going to same I'm not average, Because I am. I dance in the rain and make sick jokes. I'm not a person who speaks out or who states her opinion. I can be the calmest person when i want to, or .. more..Writing
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