Wellful of Wails
'You've thrown me over the edge of the highest peaked cliff imaginable
As I spiral further down, my outer shell gets roughed up
by sticks and stones
until my body is disfigured beyond recognition
as if I'd been torn apart and restitched together by a confused child
Will I ever hit the bottom?
And then it happens, I'm slammed to a standstill.
I don't know if I can make it out, I'm so terribly down on myself.
Do I have the strength to save myself?
At least go halfway to safety? I'll try.
But the only way to go is by crawling
dragging my nearly lifeless self along the railroad tracks
that no one seems to come across
unless they want to hide away and wait for death.
The track eventually runs into a tunnel I must get through
to receive any chance of comfort
But so many have died on this very set of tracks.
Can I make it? I'll try.
I'm gripping the cold, hard ground.
Struggling to continue on as each and every moment
even tiny, cuts deep in me as if slashed by the gory blade
of a masked offender as I move along the rugged tracks.
I'm almost under the cover of the tunnel.
Oh God, what's that sound? A train?
Of course, along comes a train.
The train constructed by all the grim gray deaths
that have been committed along these very tracks.
Chugging, chugging, chugging along.
Way faster than any pace I can produce.
The very structure of this train is held up by malicious spirits.
The steel walls are formed by the souls
of all those who've laid out on the tracks
and awaited their brutal deaths they so longed for.
I do NOT want to become an etched soul in that steel.
But it's coming for me.
I can hear it's whistle, and in its sound one can hear all the cries of the dead ever screamed aloud
formed into a single sound so evil
it must've been the work of the devil himself.
But wait! ...I see the light.
A light at the end of the tunnel. Hope.
There's still hope for me yet. I'll be there. Just wait for me.'
They're only words, that's what I said when I opened this letter
fragile, fleeting meaningless words ever wrote
despicable, disgusted I could care less
This whole world, it makes me sick
Words, they're only words
I only speak volumes in words but I never really make a sound
how can I
when every note I wish to produce
has been stolen from the very lungs used to produce my breath
Here, let me convert your ears to my wellful of wails
here, let me shed you a tale of mediocrity
as I'm pleading, beating these bear walls with my fists
bleeding, desperately trying to make real
what my dreams won't allow to be true
I love you
so hollow, so empty
it's been used as a gift but delivered like a lance
through my abdomen, piercing me through
and there's no phoenix resurrection, no elixir to bring me back to life
Love has slain me, defaced me, mocks me
if had my way, I'd burn it all to the ground
slit both my writs and laugh as I merrily bleed out
but those are just empty words, just empty words
Can you blame me for going to the extreme
a morbid end to a pipe dream
though it's that very pipe this hot steam is flowing through
I need a smoke, I need a drink
words recited when days get too rough, too jagged
it seems like everyday now, it seems like every hour
I never want to go home, I never want to stay home
but I have nowhere to go, nowhere to be, nowhere....
now I don't know what to do with myself, do with myself
except curse the blue sky for looking so joyous while I in misery
marvel at how jealous I am
at the happiness in the stratosphere I can't reach
as I watch these jets mimic my outlook on life
while I take these shoes to sidewalks
to burn off desires, burn off these painful feelings
as I burn on the inside
Hope, what hope is there for me
when I look in the mirror and all I want to do is cut my eyes
turn my arms into cobras
rip them out and throw them away
cause I refuse to see what life is doing to me
and accept this is how I was meant to be
I used to be everything I was proud of
now I'm a split image, an illusion
staring at myself a universe as he cries tears of entrapment
in glass I'm too far away to break him out of
a scared little kid, in a corner he can't fight his way out of
I'm the fighter, the lier, the spark, set me on fire
he was a lover, a genius, but someone deceived us
now I'm the only one left
Now my heart unglued, I trade food for ink cause I hope the smell will induce me
but these are just words, meaningless fragile words
I only speak in volumes of words
but twisted and turned are my insides that I weave this tale
convert your ears to my wellful of wails
so I can shed my dark complexion for one slight bright side
so I can crack my black, sky just a pencil point dot
with this meaningful shout: THERE'S SOMEONE I ADORE! ! ! ! ! !
She, the author of the letter
gives me light, gives me comfort, gives me warmth
my blanket to hang over me, shield me from this darkness I cast
She, the author of the letter
my heroine, my rainy day, my cold breeze on a cloudy
don't misread my words, their her compliments, not her insults
Why would I insult one of the greatest things to me
but then again I can only name she
she, the author of the letter
who hasn't tried to kill with me love
- Sincerely, Your Crow
That's...that's what his letter told me
but I wrote no such letter to him
who is he, how does he know me...
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