Post by {Heiligenschein} on Dec 24, 2008 23:51:13 GMT
And the entered in from between the cracks in the paint
But they are here, waiting, crouched in the darkest of corners
Posed to strike on command, not to kill, but to maim.
To injure but not destroy.
The once-tether of the world has left.
Vanished off the face of the earth.
A few days passed, and nothing seemed different.
I was told the hardest part of getting over anything would be the first three days...
It was fine then, but it was only a week ago,
When i thought I saw them standing out in the rain.
With tears down their cheeks, stretching their handout to me.
Then I realized. Maybe they weren't real at all...
Perhaps I just made them up as some
Pathetic result of my own mental instability.
Now it is pulling at me from the inside out.
A helpless smile and a slightly downward gaze.
I keep looking in all the same places...
But they are gone.
The shadows though are more visible.
They come in between those cracks of paint
The small imperfections in the glass or the wood.
I see them clearly now.
How much longer can one hold on?
When they lost all that ever meant anything to them.
Those of whom I cared my all about.
Are gone.
They will not be coming back.
Because I was the on that rended their life from their body.
But then again, was that imaginary too?
Perhaps they are out there somewhere, lost.
Waiting for a signpost, something to lead them.
I will find them.
I will save them.
((Please don't be gone forever))
But they are here, waiting, crouched in the darkest of corners
Posed to strike on command, not to kill, but to maim.
To injure but not destroy.
The once-tether of the world has left.
Vanished off the face of the earth.
A few days passed, and nothing seemed different.
I was told the hardest part of getting over anything would be the first three days...
It was fine then, but it was only a week ago,
When i thought I saw them standing out in the rain.
With tears down their cheeks, stretching their handout to me.
Then I realized. Maybe they weren't real at all...
Perhaps I just made them up as some
Pathetic result of my own mental instability.
Now it is pulling at me from the inside out.
A helpless smile and a slightly downward gaze.
I keep looking in all the same places...
But they are gone.
The shadows though are more visible.
They come in between those cracks of paint
The small imperfections in the glass or the wood.
I see them clearly now.
How much longer can one hold on?
When they lost all that ever meant anything to them.
Those of whom I cared my all about.
Are gone.
They will not be coming back.
Because I was the on that rended their life from their body.
But then again, was that imaginary too?
Perhaps they are out there somewhere, lost.
Waiting for a signpost, something to lead them.
I will find them.
I will save them.
((Please don't be gone forever))