Ridder Of Sane
I am the circle, in your world of the straight - I have no cure to the pain of the day - My demons i face by the lost of the missing - The trace i leave behind, i rake by the pale in a snake - I slide in my skin, i never bed which i shed, not when she is real as i am fake - I am thorned to a rose. my blood twists inside a vine, when i smack my veins in the face - I form no part of my spine, by my shadow i clock with the time - My only wish to the world, can my lies please vanish, better to die - I do not book when i am boiled, i do the angle in a trigger, the backlash from a coil - I see your world, to the mistakes i made - I chemical my thoughts to be branded with flames, in which way do i walk to be the ridder of Sane
poem by Unic Cjonr
Added by Poetry Lover
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