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Withen the lines of Love,
All that happens is push and shove.
But when you get pushed across the line,
All we hold is what is dearest, & mine.
And when you heart gets split in two,
then you have to make it new.
After it is all done and over with,
my hearns for a good depressing myth.
I pay attetion and look at my life,
still depressed i look at a long, cold, steel knife.
I look at the great life i have had,
and just look how it went from good, to bad.
The cold object is becoming a friend,
then all is do is just pretend.
That the knife will slip,
now i just see red and tip.
On the ground looking how my life is hell,
i see light and hear a soft and distant bell.
The light becomes bright and warm,
there is just a standing figure with a wierd form.
A form, a form i used to shove,
It wasn't the knife but a person i used to love.
My life is comming to an end,
all i know now is that i still love my dear old friend.
Holding them tight i say good-bye,
all i do now is just Sit, Wait, and Die.
by timothy mellon
that is me so comment on it please...