Solitary Soul
Hell
Scars Are History Written On The Body

Solitary Soul

Soon I will awaken from this dream.
To see all the things I’ve not yet seen.
But I’m not breathing, is this really a dream?
Or ‘something else?’
Can you hear me? Can you see me?
I need you to ‘hear me’ when I speak.
Not just to listen.
I’ve fallen to my death.
Once again I’m in solitude.
But this time I’m a solitary soul.
You don’t need to cry for me.
This is what I know.
I’ll be ok like I always have been.
It may be cold where I am but I’m not afraid.
It’s almost no different to where I was before.
I can still hear the whispers in the wind.
I can still see the other tortured souls around me.
One day my very existence may be breathed into me.
To bring me back to life.

Ginger

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Hell

The life tag says you're mentally ill
it's not your fault! it is gods' will
you suffer torment, your karmas shot
one day to another you blow cold then hot
never knowing, never ending, the spectre looms on regardless
when the packs been dealt you've been left cardless
lick it, bear it or become a shell
your choice, your downfall. welcome to hell.

Helen

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Scars Are History Written On The Body

Lie, experience the unexperienced. Rest, relax, recoup. Relax ironic. Not to be done. Look up west at the rising sun. Your too late, just you wait. Tonight, tonight. Awareness of controversial argumentation occurs within your mind. confused again, you act. Turn the light on. Not to look back, you want to cry, inside so biased, Not to die. You look at the stars above, Read the note you left for the loved. You made it. You've had your fun. Now it's my turn. To cry blood.

Jo Green