Description: mid year 2005. pretty fucked up, and amid a self destructive downward spiral
House Of Stone -------------------------------------------
I always have a smoke in hand
Steel and ink across my bodyMy little black car
always matches my mood
In the silent darkness
I sit alone and brood
I've had a decent life
like I fucking care
It isn't a great life
when no one else is there
I sit alone in a dark room
My memories surround me
I sit by myself
there is no one left to join me
My demons keep me company
always telling tales of my life
Reminding me why everyone is gone
but they tell me it's ok
Misery loves company
Funny I'm never alone
yet that doesn't mean a damned thing
when you live in a house of stone
Everyday of my life
I add stone to the walls
Every night of my life
I wander empty halls
The ammusing part of it is
The house never ends
Nothing but a fortress
built to save myself
Whenever someone gets through
I just build another wall
The most they ever reach
is the outer hall
The walls will never fail
In my fotress I am alone
haunting solitude
in my house of stone
I really related to the first part. Always having a smoke in hand. Steel and ink I took as two ways. Piercings and tattoos (of which I have both, so I'm still relating) or a knife and ink for writing (both passions of mine). The beginning painted a nice, if dark, picture.
The decent life but not caring is something I'm sure everyone can relate to, and your word choice for that particular line, and using a curse, put a lot of feeling behind the piece.
I think, personally, you used the word "wall" too much. I think that the end was a bit forced...it sounded too generic. Building walls to keep people out. Everyone does it, and everyone writes about it.
I felt your words, but I liked the beginning of this piece more than the end.
Submission Name: House Of Stone
