Up From The Skies Suicide Booth ID: 13
Join Date: Jul 2006
Location: Given To Fly!!!!!
Posts: 13,150
Bincount™: 26323
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Try to speak
Doldrums tumble in the day, into the week, the weak
As I try to speak, her hand is seriously stuck in my swollen throat
When I try to see, her fingertips are lodged in my aching eyes
As I walk, I stumble on the sorrow stone, in the path, our path
Trying to cleanse the deep wounds carved in her chest
My missing rib flutters about, she dances on my wrist like a treasured bracelet
Expressions are coughed up into a bathtub full of missing words
Kissing the poetry embedded on the papers, upon trees, upon trees and trees
Which are delicately arranged in a sacred geometrical pattern
The truth is humbly spoken, a plethora of lies are buried, then burned
Secret chants, essentially prayers are hands held, bonded in a circle, around the burning bush
Her heart is brightened, enlightening energy on display
His heart is listening, deciphering woven words on display
When lightning strikes, the clouds will provide vision in the form of holy rain
There is an abundance of rain in your glowing heart, in our growing hearts
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I don't know where the sunbeams end
And the starlights begin
It's all a mystery
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