Untitled

Everything feels so lame
There's a beauty in the pain
The blood has left its stain..

Out there sets in a mist
His hands curled into a fist
The blood, he touched and kissed..

All that's left of a star, is a black hole
The shining bright white light, it stole
The blood is going, and so will his soul..

He gets up, and giddiness upon him dawns
This is not a game, with more respawns
But he's so bored with this life, he yawns..

He tries to walk and the blood, ruffles
The blood drips, the carpet, the sound, muffles
He looks, he smiles and out of the room, he shuffles..

Its his death, but he has to smoke
He takes a drag but, on it, he chokes
The lit end, on the arm, he strokes..

More blood, he expectorates
Moving through the mist, his death, he awaits
He wants to lie, and blame it on The Fates..

The mist thickens to become a fog
Doesn't look, and he trips on a log
Makes him think more about him being a cog..

He'll wait for this death while he's down
He's happy, though he fell, and on his face, there is no frown
Random thoughts cross his mind, and in one, he's a clown..


(to be contd.)



--
by dranz3r