Post by diddlina on Oct 6, 2004 11:53:56 GMT -5
My eyes, they never seem to dry
With every precious tear that smells of a fresh drop
Like rain, taking each drop with a sigh
Or a baby, having a soft snooze in its cot
Let death’s lips have a touch on mine
This life, it seems, is not so worthwhile
I’m not towards blasphemy, but very much against
And thank God each day for every breath my soul takes
What is the soul, if not the core of a nest
Where a bird, an animal, for food its child so lovingly wakes
Beauty, I’ve heard, is in the eye of its beholder
The only time my eye sees it is in a child’s innocent smile
The warmth of the smile’s outpouring love suddenly becomes colder
When it’s put to rest by a rock-hearted pile
Ranging from physical to emotional, it’s still called abuse
And wounds the very core for life’s desire
That is to win lovingly and not bitterly lose
A loved one, yet grasp the scalding fire
Caused by a sick-hearted quiver
That compels an outstretched hand to take action
As quick as the flow of a storming river
In rage, accomplishes its duty in a fraction
Of time that regrets its very existence
In doing so, allowing this to happen
A lacerated heart, living forever in bitterness
Its cheeks, which ever so slowly dampen
Never seeming to dry, nor able to wipe away
Flowing angrily, storming of sweet water
Beauty, to my eyes, will come back the day
An abusive heart kisses away the salty tears of a crying daughter
And life will seem worthwhile to me
And my soul will take every breath without the wish to die
When, is found, a wounded heart’s key
And is taken out, the seemingly hopeless everlasting lie
12/4/2004
i hope u like it
With every precious tear that smells of a fresh drop
Like rain, taking each drop with a sigh
Or a baby, having a soft snooze in its cot
Let death’s lips have a touch on mine
This life, it seems, is not so worthwhile
I’m not towards blasphemy, but very much against
And thank God each day for every breath my soul takes
What is the soul, if not the core of a nest
Where a bird, an animal, for food its child so lovingly wakes
Beauty, I’ve heard, is in the eye of its beholder
The only time my eye sees it is in a child’s innocent smile
The warmth of the smile’s outpouring love suddenly becomes colder
When it’s put to rest by a rock-hearted pile
Ranging from physical to emotional, it’s still called abuse
And wounds the very core for life’s desire
That is to win lovingly and not bitterly lose
A loved one, yet grasp the scalding fire
Caused by a sick-hearted quiver
That compels an outstretched hand to take action
As quick as the flow of a storming river
In rage, accomplishes its duty in a fraction
Of time that regrets its very existence
In doing so, allowing this to happen
A lacerated heart, living forever in bitterness
Its cheeks, which ever so slowly dampen
Never seeming to dry, nor able to wipe away
Flowing angrily, storming of sweet water
Beauty, to my eyes, will come back the day
An abusive heart kisses away the salty tears of a crying daughter
And life will seem worthwhile to me
And my soul will take every breath without the wish to die
When, is found, a wounded heart’s key
And is taken out, the seemingly hopeless everlasting lie
12/4/2004
i hope u like it
am glad u liked it .. 
