2777494
Intro: I would explain this one, but I'll just let you all make your own assessment about this one this time.
One of you I'll leave nameless, but you know who you are. Said to me, that my greatest writing comes from a feeling. I say it takes time. Oh this is written in old 1768 English text...
So sit back relax & enjoy...
In a box I sit & wonder
As my mind begins to plunge
Feeling depressed my mind starts to suggest
Wicked things start to sound like sane things
Like seeing thy heart part from thy chest
Or seeing thy body cut down to mere peaces
Is it thy mind that parts from self
Or is it thy self that is trapped in thy mind
Thy mind confesses wicked things to thy self
Thy self dead is number one on that list
Number two a sword in hand cuts hand
With each passing stroke a sense of relief
As life slowly flows thru thy hand
Is this the work of absent mind at hand
Or cries of lonely mine
Trapped inside thy feeble mind
To bear witness
To a man dying inside by each passing hand
Time stops for no man
With that in mind
The mind peal back each & even that happen in time
With one question that plays tricks with thy mind
That are no way near kind
Without answer thy mind asks
Why? All the fucking time
It's a room filled with mirrors playing back ones mistakes
Like movies with the same ending
This box I call home
Has no doors nor windows
Only a dim light where heart sat
No longer feel love
Just regret, loneliness, lose & despair
One may ask why thy mind confesses such things
It's easy really, because of
Loneliness, Love & Life
The three L's that forms a box
Thy mind is not safe nor calming
So I shall stop thy mind from thinking
By separating thy brain from skull
Body only need heart to sustain life
Or so I perceive
Or is this thy mind at hand
Can someone lend a helping hand
So I can part from thy mind
Or am I to lay screaming in the deeps of thy mind
Like falling trees in forest
I...
Intro: I would explain this one, but I'll just let you all make your own assessment about this one this time.
One of you I'll leave nameless, but you know who you are. Said to me, that my greatest writing comes from a feeling. I say it takes time. Oh this is written in old 1768 English text...
So sit back relax & enjoy...
In a box I sit & wonder
As my mind begins to plunge
Feeling depressed my mind starts to suggest
Wicked things start to sound like sane things
Like seeing thy heart part from thy chest
Or seeing thy body cut down to mere peaces
Is it thy mind that parts from self
Or is it thy self that is trapped in thy mind
Thy mind confesses wicked things to thy self
Thy self dead is number one on that list
Number two a sword in hand cuts hand
With each passing stroke a sense of relief
As life slowly flows thru thy hand
Is this the work of absent mind at hand
Or cries of lonely mine
Trapped inside thy feeble mind
To bear witness
To a man dying inside by each passing hand
Time stops for no man
With that in mind
The mind peal back each & even that happen in time
With one question that plays tricks with thy mind
That are no way near kind
Without answer thy mind asks
Why? All the fucking time
It's a room filled with mirrors playing back ones mistakes
Like movies with the same ending
This box I call home
Has no doors nor windows
Only a dim light where heart sat
No longer feel love
Just regret, loneliness, lose & despair
One may ask why thy mind confesses such things
It's easy really, because of
Loneliness, Love & Life
The three L's that forms a box
Thy mind is not safe nor calming
So I shall stop thy mind from thinking
By separating thy brain from skull
Body only need heart to sustain life
Or so I perceive
Or is this thy mind at hand
Can someone lend a helping hand
So I can part from thy mind
Or am I to lay screaming in the deeps of thy mind
Like falling trees in forest
I rest alone never to be rescued
For eternity...
"Most days I lye in cased in a dream kicking & screaming, unable to wake for fear of breathing in the poison that to long sustain me. So I hold my breath riding in agony until the day I can sleep eternity & dream no more."
By: Trevor I.S. Caruth
One of you I'll leave nameless, but you know who you are. Said to me, that my greatest writing comes from a feeling. I say it takes time. Oh this is written in old 1768 English text...
So sit back relax & enjoy...
In a box I sit & wonder
As my mind begins to plunge
Feeling depressed my mind starts to suggest
Wicked things start to sound like sane things
Like seeing thy heart part from thy chest
Or seeing thy body cut down to mere peaces
Is it thy mind that parts from self
Or is it thy self that is trapped in thy mind
Thy mind confesses wicked things to thy self
Thy self dead is number one on that list
Number two a sword in hand cuts hand
With each passing stroke a sense of relief
As life slowly flows thru thy hand
Is this the work of absent mind at hand
Or cries of lonely mine
Trapped inside thy feeble mind
To bear witness
To a man dying inside by each passing hand
Time stops for no man
With that in mind
The mind peal back each & even that happen in time
With one question that plays tricks with thy mind
That are no way near kind
Without answer thy mind asks
Why? All the fucking time
It's a room filled with mirrors playing back ones mistakes
Like movies with the same ending
This box I call home
Has no doors nor windows
Only a dim light where heart sat
No longer feel love
Just regret, loneliness, lose & despair
One may ask why thy mind confesses such things
It's easy really, because of
Loneliness, Love & Life
The three L's that forms a box
Thy mind is not safe nor calming
So I shall stop thy mind from thinking
By separating thy brain from skull
Body only need heart to sustain life
Or so I perceive
Or is this thy mind at hand
Can someone lend a helping hand
So I can part from thy mind
Or am I to lay screaming in the deeps of thy mind
Like falling trees in forest
I...