Tuesday, 1 June 2010

moulding

So much power being lost every fucking day,
All this positive energy being thrown away,
Every morning sighing-fuck me, again?,
Every night promising to stop-Really? But when?
Break of day and once again you feel like shit,
Shouting at yourself-this is it!
As the day progresses your strength gets less
And you make yourself feel better by saying you tried your best,
not really understanding what does 'your best' actually mean,
strong or weak-in which direction do you lean?
Knowing your strength-just not knowing how should be used,
Sick and tired of being sick and tired equals really not being amused.
So what the fuck is it with me constantly writing this crap,
I suppose its better than opening my trap?


' Me, my thoughts are flower strewn
Ocean storm, bayberry moon
I have got to leave to find my way
Watch the road and memorize
This life that pass before my eyes
Nothing is going my way'

Find the river-REM

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