Looking at the mirror, with no face to see
Smiling at the world, with just pain underneath
Away I walk on the shore, even the mud is pulled beneath
What have I got, when my soul is put to sleep?
It seems endless, this anguish and this fear
The soul may have gone, leaving this pain to endure
There is no point in this futile fervour,
but that is the destiny of man
With no pain he must suffer….
With no soul he must wander!
These were my concerns until times so near
But now I know, without a soul; why should I fear?
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.06 seconds at 11:38pm on Nov 13, 2024 via server WEBX1.