People say love gives reason,
and hate kills,
but I am still searching for a gun with bullets.
Only the brave outrun uncertainity.
Us cowards only dream.
We dream until love amputates our legs,
and immerses our hearts in hate.
Known to disappoint to gain dependency,
and become helpless to salvage consistancy.
We cry sweet tears until we turn bitter,
while waiting in fear for reality
to haunt us down in our sleep.
Making poetry to us seem heaven-sent
not because of the beauty of the prose,
but because reality can't fit
in between the lines of the paper.
In the paper is where our hope lives and dies,
where the brave aren't invincible,
and reality is no more than a word.
Where I want to live out the rest of my life
waiting for my soul to whither from tears
and die from lack of words. |
Submission Name: Us Cowards
