This blog was created for others who will hopefully glean something from the words I have written.Not much to say except I ran off from an orphanage when I was 13 years old.Hopped on a freight train and joined the circus.Have been wandering ever since.I am grateful to be alive and my only desire is to leave something here for others to gain from.If I can accomplish that then I have successfully reached my intended goal.All we have left in the end is our legacy.
I hurt myself today to see if I still feel I focus on the pain the only thing that's real the needle tears a hole the old familiar sting try to kill it all away but I remember everything what have I become? my sweetest friend everyone I know goes away in the end and you could have it all my empire of dirt
I will let you down I will make you hurt
I wear this crown of thorns upon my liar's chair full of broken thoughts I cannot repair beneath the stains of time the feelings disappear you are someone else I am still right here
what have I become? my sweetest friend everyone I know goes away in the end and you could have it all my empire of dirt
I will let you down I will make you hurt
if I could start again a million miles away I would keep myself I would find a way
Abandoned farms Such places decay in the silence Feint cries of the starving fox Piercing arrows that fall Amongst the tall pines Under jealous skies peering Far from the asphalt jungles Corrugated doors of steel Once locked down Are as closed eyes slumbering Condensation upon the concrete Serve as the artificial tears Banging within the hollows As if to represent thunder in some way Only magnifies the madness I am sure the skies there are just as blue The sun is just as bright The stars and moon shine as always But I am the wandering man Returning to the abandoned place Yet it calls out in the still night The rhythmic tantrum of tires upon the road Painted lines upon the road pass by quickly In the night Its keen pull upon my heart strings As though it were a tugging of the reins upon a steed So is the hart upon the grassy plains Whose desire to return to the safety of its den Just one single tear falls upon my cheek As I fight back the tremendous flow From within They are not tears of sadness Bur rather in anticipation of the spark Which ignites the flicker within the flame