Tonight, I spoke with the devil
How strange, he looked like me
A beckoning hand, an awful grin
Is this what I'm meant to be?
That mirror is cracked now,
My hands bleeding fast
I can gaze no longer
At the face from the past
Oh, when will you understand?
When will you understand
That I'm so much more than a sleight of hand
Oh, I'm just a little tired, that's all
Just don't forget to catch when I fall
Yes, tonight I spoke with an angel
Strange, they looked a lot like me
Yet unwilling to help, was he
Choosing again to be
Unnervingly selfish.
Always the duality changes my morality
Into creatures of their own
So please now don't get mad at me but
You'd better watch your tone
Oh, when will you understand?
When will you understand
That I'm nothing more than a grain of sand
Oh, I'm just a little tired, that's all
Just don't forget to laugh when I fall
It's all over
But hasn't even really begun
You don't know me
But I don't even know myself
Oh, when will you understand?
When will you understand
That I'm always stuck here in no-man's-land
Oh, I'm just a little tired, that's all
Just don't forget to watch when I fall
YOU ARE READING
Imagination
Poetryim·ag·i·na·tion /iˌmajəˈnāSH(ə)n/ noun the faculty or action of forming new ideas, or images or concepts of external objects not present to the senses. Otherwise known as "Musings of the Balladeer." This is an anthology of poetry I've written...
