Its a self destructive soul,
He's sat up against the wall
And hes got the power
To wreck a self-destructive hell,
He looks just like me,
And he's staring right through me
Devoid of emotion
And restraint.
A shotgun in his bag,
Blood on fists and hands
And I can't hold him back,
Anymore.
And I'm in the shadows, hiding from a blaze
Of a rampaging inferno
I cower in the dust and wait for the backlash
Nowhere left to go
What has he done?
The white noise subsides
And the mob is hunting me down
But I'll hide in the undergrowth,
Underground.
And I'll run and I'll run and I'll run and I'll run,
And I'll stagger, and I'll fall, on the far skirts of town,
But at least I'm free from me,
After all.
What Have I Done?
YOU ARE READING
Standing in the Shadows of Giants
PoetryMy first attempt at a poetry collection, this is a selection of works that I mainly wrote across the summer of 2010, with some other stuff in there too. Forbidden love, unrequited love, love in general, betrayal, social observation - it's all here t...