Dying from the grave of evil,
but then you are there to save me...
No where near passionate life or the fateful dead
Not able to feel any bliss or a trace of dread...
Dings of rhythm,
play about...
Dark rainy clouds. To the calm sun.
Taking over my scene...
What is happening to me?
Do I choose to only see what I want to see...
One corpse, 101 souls,
All of which make me whole...
There are many sides of me
For others to see...
***this is the basic blue print for this poem...
I feel dead...
Screaming to the clouds
Wishing I could feel happy...
February 11, 1963.
Oh, what exploits this day will hold...
Shadow of pain
Relinquish from the shadow...
There is another side of me, in which I cannot...