Wanderer; the Other Me

by Cooper   Aug 29, 2008

*** Was taking a walk one day ... my shadow was split into three. Somehow that made me think about who I am, without her. ***

I walk in the suffering sun,
it's own fire burning all hope away,
and there are three of me,
three shadows,
all black like my charred heart;

One has my voice,
persuading my bleeding feet,
another has my eyes,
to acknowledge the crimson I leave upon this gray,
and the last owns my hands,
pulling at my spine.
(Stop walking, and just smell the roses)

I hear the other me, but I wish that he was dead,
I see you each and every day, and I wish that my love would disappear,
and I can feel you in my bed, as well as your memories are in my head.

Sleeping on clocks,
all made of time-telling rocks,
there are dead birds here, far from peace,
just like them, it all resembles a cage,
colourless with age.

(So) Spit your pity in my soul,
I'll let you know, it isn't whole,
but you can watch the butterflies,
as they try to live ...
to you this wound I give.


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