Dry Ice

By maliceman

Cloaked in black, I travel.
The mysteries of hate, I unravel.
Finding the pieces of my heart, my soul.
Desperately wishing I were whole.

A sound so astute... a shatter,
But what the fuck does it matter?
The other me is dead....
But was i ever really here?
Or was it all in my head?

A rebirth, someone new,
Still don't know what the fuck to do.
I am lost, never to be found.
Might as well be six feet below the ground.

Crimson are the tears that dampen my clothes.
But I wear all black, so it doesn't even show.

Need a life.
Need a purpose.
Need a goal.
Or my heart will always
Be
Ice cold.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.

Published on Tuesday, February 15, 2011. Filed under: "Depressed" and "Poetry"

Comments on "Dry Ice"

A former member wrote: LOVED this one. It made me laugh at how real it is. It's ok, I don't understand exactly what I mean by that last sentence either. Very well written.
On Monday, August 29, 2011, Ladyhawke (392) wrote:

Wow, that was brutal. Power. Pure power. Darkness, almost sensual. Loved it.
On Friday, April 29, 2011, mysterylove (97) wrote:

"crimson are the tears that dampen my clothes. but i wear all black, so it doesnt even show." brilliant.
On Wednesday, February 16, 2011, 10 Forty Three (543) wrote:

For some reason curse words make it just that much more powerful. I can relate... great write.