Friday, November 2, 2007

Old yet satisfying for my eyes to re-read

Headache Appeal

Blankness in an aching mind

Treachery, treachery, what's the time?

A pulse, a beat

So nervous and neat

The kindness of an empty letter

Like a vowel alone, I, U, A?

Only difference is nothing is personal

Nothing empty at least

Blankness and it still aches

The pulse still goes

Extensively.

Nothing at all though

It's becoming very personal

Or is it still hollow?

An I, I, I…

Followed by a "like you"

Still hollow?

An empty mind never aches

But an empty soul?

No one writes about money or material

Not at face value at least

Oh… wait

"America" does, a little…

This is not a love poem

Nothing must be felt by a reader

Not a word

The cure had a horrible view of love

Pity to them

Anyways, it's sad

CIBC building is the taste of freedom

Free to…

Invest?

Yet are we not free now?

Free to learn and achieve other people's standards

To reach the goals everyone has set

More pain in the mind

A cold caused it though, not the lack of sanity

Everything is so beautiful, when you're happy.

Sara Lawlor


P.S.

My day was all over and my hearts going too far from my chest in beats of unmeasurable time. Enough drama, I'm getting old. On Tuesday I turn 20. Oh I'm fearful.


2 comments:

Utopian said...

yup the twit people seem to be really hep..having a lot of fun..!!

liked this post of urs..collection of fragments of thoughts..!

SRS LWLS said...

thanks
<3