05-11-2012, 12:38 PM
V:2
There is an infestation of cockroaches breeding in my mind
Gestating a new generation of insanity among the layers of hurt
And erratic emotions that come with the baby dreams
Of what was lost as it grew; loved in the warmth of a womb
Now a tomb, an unwanted bleeding monument
To the loss of life, hope; of a chance at motherhood
A rifle cocked, a trigger pulled, a rush of blood and agony
Where are the boys? Where are my boys? What went wrong?
When will we go hunting my love, when will we find an answer?
To justify death, the hollow void within me that could not carry on
And so extinguished the light, plunging my world, our world into darkness
My heart is empty though it beats its rhythmic pulse at my wrists
That I know my soul won’t bleed out of should I take to the sharps
And chase my boys into the long cold sleep of forever
Where I’d rather be, than here, alive, without them to love.
...
V:1
There is an infestation of cockroaches breeding in my mind
Gestating a new generation of insanity among the layers of hurt
And erratic emotions that come with the baby dreams
Of what was lost as it grew and was loved in the warmth of a womb
That is now a tomb, an unwanted bleeding monument
To the loss of life, of hope, of a chance at motherhood.
A rifle cocked, a trigger pulled, a rush of blood and agony
Where are the boys? Where are my boys? What went wrong?
When will we go hunting my love, when will we find an answer?
To justify death, the hollow void within me that could not carry on
And so extinguished the light, plunging my world, our world into darkness.
My heart is empty though it beats its rhythmic pulse at my wrists
That I know my soul won’t bleed out of should I take to the sharps
And chase my boys into the long cold sleep of forever
For I’d rather be there than here, alive, without them to love.
There is an infestation of cockroaches breeding in my mind
Gestating a new generation of insanity among the layers of hurt
And erratic emotions that come with the baby dreams
Of what was lost as it grew; loved in the warmth of a womb
Now a tomb, an unwanted bleeding monument
To the loss of life, hope; of a chance at motherhood
A rifle cocked, a trigger pulled, a rush of blood and agony
Where are the boys? Where are my boys? What went wrong?
When will we go hunting my love, when will we find an answer?
To justify death, the hollow void within me that could not carry on
And so extinguished the light, plunging my world, our world into darkness
My heart is empty though it beats its rhythmic pulse at my wrists
That I know my soul won’t bleed out of should I take to the sharps
And chase my boys into the long cold sleep of forever
Where I’d rather be, than here, alive, without them to love.
...
V:1
There is an infestation of cockroaches breeding in my mind
Gestating a new generation of insanity among the layers of hurt
And erratic emotions that come with the baby dreams
Of what was lost as it grew and was loved in the warmth of a womb
That is now a tomb, an unwanted bleeding monument
To the loss of life, of hope, of a chance at motherhood.
A rifle cocked, a trigger pulled, a rush of blood and agony
Where are the boys? Where are my boys? What went wrong?
When will we go hunting my love, when will we find an answer?
To justify death, the hollow void within me that could not carry on
And so extinguished the light, plunging my world, our world into darkness.
My heart is empty though it beats its rhythmic pulse at my wrists
That I know my soul won’t bleed out of should I take to the sharps
And chase my boys into the long cold sleep of forever
For I’d rather be there than here, alive, without them to love.
"Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them." - Friedrich Nietzsche