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"Empty shells...
We're all just empty shells
Grasping at the sky
With the hope of angelic lyres
And echoing bells

But we feared that knell...
That unseen place
That we knew so well
We never knew why
We never knew when
But we pretended we could tell"

With a hand filled with splinters
With a fistful of gauze
With egos that were injured
We cried out to god

" That call...
That constant, persistent call
For a purpose and a place
An identity and a face
With our idiosyncrasies so droll

And as the universe get bigger
In our frail hearts
We feel so small...
Why would it be so hard
If he could really see us all?"

The hands raised in conviction
In sheer silent submission
So often are the ones
That are scared and broken

Another handful of glass
Another selfish ambition
Another opportunity to ask
And no time to listen

Placting faithfully
With the bribe of tears
With open mouths to the air
With wet vacant stares
They shouted their prayers
So that something would hear
Their conceited cares
Their contemptible despair

Not to be outdone but one another's wails
Lives oh so filled with with a frightfully feigned pain
A staged production
Of smoke...
Mirrors...
And conceptual cinematic angles
As an insincere tribute to genuine downward spirals

Tongues so numb and devoid of thanks
Lives oh so filled with a laughable, affable angst
The theatrical farce that you called your sorrow
A dead horse beaten like there was no tomorrow

------
Alex, The boy full of ideas


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Comments

The following comments are for "Untitled"
by amusedlilboy

Alexandre, beautiful
I really found this a beautiful read. I followed a comment of yours and saw this posted and am eager to read more of you, when I have a bit more time...so nicely done...thanks for posting this.

Darlene ;)

( Posted by: Dareva [Member] On: May 19, 2005 )





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