Tuesday, March 8, 2011

"Spilling Out"

My Blood grows thick
By the constraints of man,
And grows black with decay.
These years pass
Shattered like glass
And I wonder,
Is darkness my only fate?

Now maybe life is a symphony,
And I just don't hear the sound.
Maybe it is a masterpiece
of words,
yet to be found.
If I could put it all together,
Or find the beauty beneath,
I'd have to get out all the bad things
To make it complete

Sometimes you have to get out the bad
To make way for the good
Sometimes you have to break a few rules
To be understood
And sometimes you just have to leave
To ever get home

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