The measure of my thought does not weight upon your eyes
Stealing hopes and dreams and heartache with your twists and turns and lies
Like an open book you bleed on me expect my words to fill a void
Forget this pure emotion; you taint it with your noise
I am selfish; I am egotistical, more than I am deep
Because I sink these bubbled thoughts and rarely pop them, but for me
I can tell you how I want you to feel, like most do when they cry
But I am empty, chalk less, without your opinion, let dreams stand alone
Fend for themselves
Let this sharing surely die
Stealing hopes and dreams and heartache with your twists and turns and lies
Like an open book you bleed on me expect my words to fill a void
Forget this pure emotion; you taint it with your noise
I am selfish; I am egotistical, more than I am deep
Because I sink these bubbled thoughts and rarely pop them, but for me
I can tell you how I want you to feel, like most do when they cry
But I am empty, chalk less, without your opinion, let dreams stand alone
Fend for themselves
Let this sharing surely die
Published by Nikki Freeman
Freelance Writer, Graphic Designer, Web Designer. My first passion was writing, my second Art, my third singing/songwriting/music/my guitar, fourth technology. Put them all together and somehow they manage t... View profile
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3 Comments
Post a CommentI was told by the great Western Kentucky poet, James Whitehead, "Mike, to right a good poem we must destort reality." You have done a great job with this one.:)
What thoughts float free to be shared?
What pops when identity is scared?
How low will we descend?
Before we realize,
This path is
the end.
Interesting... I have to honestly say, I've felt this way once or twice in my life (nodding)