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Literature Text
Broken and Cold
My broken heart of dreams,
flowing down this endless stream,
red and bright, an endless light,
the darkness is faded away,
break away, do it today.
we call it blood,
you call it mud,
save me from this pain
save me from this unworthy game,
free my soul it feels like coal,
free my life, avoid the knife
from this emense torture before I break
your smile is so fake
Free me, is all I ask
Is it such a task?
You don't know what it is like under this mask of life,
Free the once, free thee, free me!
Please...
Really... is it such a task?
My broken heart of dreams,
flowing down this endless stream,
red and bright, an endless light,
the darkness is faded away,
break away, do it today.
we call it blood,
you call it mud,
save me from this pain
save me from this unworthy game,
free my soul it feels like coal,
free my life, avoid the knife
from this emense torture before I break
your smile is so fake
Free me, is all I ask
Is it such a task?
You don't know what it is like under this mask of life,
Free the once, free thee, free me!
Please...
Really... is it such a task?
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I wrote this a few years ago. Made a few rhyme adjustments. Haaa the grammar is poor, but it's alright. :]
© 2006 - 2024 Randomness121
Comments17
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"...go bake"? No offence, but thats kind of a lame rhyme. People can tell you struggled to find a rhyme, and if you didn't, I suggect finding a better word...or something....
Otherwise, that's brilliant! Especially the two lines with "we call it blood, you call it mud", very good imagery, showing how humans take bloodshead and pain, both emotional and physical, for granted, and don't really bother to worry about anyone's but their owns. The theme of this poem is really the need to be yourself and be let out of your body and be free. You are begging for release without death, but no one will free you, and you ask, " Is it really that hard to just let me be who I am so I don't have to pretend anymore?". *hopes I nailed the theme*
Excellently written, which is a huge compliment with me being a very picky writer myself. Bravo! *applause from randomly acquired stadium*
Otherwise, that's brilliant! Especially the two lines with "we call it blood, you call it mud", very good imagery, showing how humans take bloodshead and pain, both emotional and physical, for granted, and don't really bother to worry about anyone's but their owns. The theme of this poem is really the need to be yourself and be let out of your body and be free. You are begging for release without death, but no one will free you, and you ask, " Is it really that hard to just let me be who I am so I don't have to pretend anymore?". *hopes I nailed the theme*
Excellently written, which is a huge compliment with me being a very picky writer myself. Bravo! *applause from randomly acquired stadium*