I walked down the lane
Studded with strangeness
And filled with magical thrills
Bearing a belief
In my nerves and mind.
The lane I walked
With a heart
that was hollow and
Eyes full of dread,
I strolled and
Strolled endlessly
Moving left to right
Gathering in piles
Drunk on the wind
Having nothing
But to feed on my own fears
Just before the eternity,
It led me to a wooden door
Where a cracked lampshade,
a crumpled paper
Sat on a marble end table
And a worn couch
Laid on a stained carpet.
I found an escape
Or it had found me
the pen in my pocket
the pen in my pocket
felt like a blade
and I bled away the pain
as I poured my feels
and I bled away the pain
as I poured my feels
Into words and phrases.
If you are not living on the edge you're taking up way too much space.
If you are not living on the edge you're taking up way too much space.
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