BlackDragonSoul
06-29-2001, 11:18 PM
What lurks in the mind,
Of a lost, old soul,
That has no more,
Of its life to show.
Indeed, I’ll tell you,
But, first know this,
A path of this direction,
Is a pain-filled bliss.
For dead is he,
Who has no hope,
Of finding the will,
To bare and cope.
No skin to touch,
Or ears to listen,
No nose to smell,
Or eyes that glisten.
The light has gone,
Just darkness remains,
Every sense of pleasure,
Is replaced by pain.
The hole grows deeper,
And seems to never end,
All life flies out,
Death becomes your friend.
Clearly, yet faint,
Night begins beckoning,
And every new dusk,
Is one of reckoning.
:wavey:
Of a lost, old soul,
That has no more,
Of its life to show.
Indeed, I’ll tell you,
But, first know this,
A path of this direction,
Is a pain-filled bliss.
For dead is he,
Who has no hope,
Of finding the will,
To bare and cope.
No skin to touch,
Or ears to listen,
No nose to smell,
Or eyes that glisten.
The light has gone,
Just darkness remains,
Every sense of pleasure,
Is replaced by pain.
The hole grows deeper,
And seems to never end,
All life flies out,
Death becomes your friend.
Clearly, yet faint,
Night begins beckoning,
And every new dusk,
Is one of reckoning.
:wavey: