Poems from IntricateContemplation
Watching stains on the sidewalk..
Listening to the birds talk,
- Mind's Gone.
No one with the words to say..
or listen to the words I say...
If this is living,
I'm not sure if I want to live.
If only I could move.. just get away,
but I can only go where I am taken to.
No one...
I started writing to express the hurt that was wrapped,
twisted, and concocted inside of me.
It seemed to be the only way that I could...
Deep inside is a tunnel of PRIDE,
I'd usually walk alone - even my shadow would hide.
Not concerned of what I did or what I said,
If I was...