My Life: Beguiled

This is SO old, I don't even know what it's about. It's not very good, but I thought it might be fun to showcase my old style... of course, I mean dialect and weird habits...

Because it's easier to believe
That when our hands aren't pressed to our ears
That the blood's not flowing
Like it has been for all these years
Like angry troops come to seek their vengeance
On a heart of coal and ice and fear.

My brain exposed and drowning
In the memories of the year prior
And I struggle to pull myself from this pit
That puts me in a rut so very dire.
I tell myself over and over again
That it's true, you're not a liar.

My memories are miscellaneous
And some are great and some small.
The tragedy of it all, my dear,
Is that you're in them one and all:
From when I stood high on top of the world
To all the times I took a fall (there were plenty).

The sad ones make me cry.
The happy ones make me smile,
And still the happiest make me cry...
And you're laughing all the while.
And your laughs fill the Georgia mountains
And my tears fill God's hands--my life: beguiled.

Reviews

[Kristin Brecoe]

i like. =]