Monday, November 23, 2015


I live a life unto itself a stage
And all the days written in a page
To feel the burning of staring eyes
In an empty room I sit despondant
To the world outside looking within
The eyes of a man whose view thin
For a question causes those lies
Still I have become irreverant
To this life in a city of glass
Lights that seeps through
The windows to the street
Where strangers meet
Is the promise of a tale
Written unto them all
As they watch me fall
Over the life parable
Don't play with fire
I have seen all this
I have been this
And I will bleed