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Poem


With the last strokes of night
All the troubles of the day will faded from your mind
Yet they will linger around me like smock
The city of ruined grips me like the black death her self
Yet their is no death to loo forward to
Just a pillow beneath my head
And the feelings swarm and rage in side this cage
And rise to the point of raging but never seem to break free
At times i want to brake down and cry tears of everything
Yet it seems my eyes only get blurry
When it rains i know its because the sky cry for me
And i hate it
The sympathy the clouds give me
making me feel week
I'm to week to weep
With the stroke of midnight Cinderella will retreat to her cinder state
I will retreat to a state of rage
Yet no glass slipper will save me from the chimneys i must sweep
So i hide in corners with my knees raised up
If i hide maybe the rage cant seek
A marko-pollow game i try not to pollow back
Yet it seems in trying so hard to contain all the emotions in that cage
I'm all full of head acks and hart acks
Body acks that rattle my teeth
And to try and not think of all that rages me
I pick on all the thinks that me ugly
In a hop to easy the pain
The words of my past burned holes in my soul
And i can not Crutch on you when you are crutched your self
I must find the path out of my own turmoil by my self
A dark and spidery rode i mast walk alone

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