Solid, circular lenses
Through which I see the world
Everyone as red as I thought
Their blood spilled out over the walls and floor
It's scary, yes; bloodcurdling? Maybe
But it's just normal for me.
Been going strong for five years
So not really a new issue at all
A clone, a description in my mind,
He calls himself IT, I call him June
We take turns, piloting this body
And the last time I held the reins, I was nine years old,
Eyes of gold
That seem to find interest in all things sad
People call him a masochist
But he prefers the term "seer"
Murdered our dreamer idealist self, Jedi
He was just a kid,
But Mum and Dad gave orders to bury him,
So we did.
Now every year
When we clock another year
Another year of pain, suffering and clinical depression
He lies in the grave,
Dead, but still awake.
YOU ARE READING
Chronicle: My thoughts and poems
PoetryMy personal diary. Song lyrics, unfinished poems, and obscure thoughts by me;P P.S. The stories marked by ♗ are poems, and the ♫-marked ones are either song lyrics or lyric poems.
