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Desperate hands on a face of silk
Tormented soul drenched with guilt
Begging for pardon when she'll pass
Living in secret behind walls of glass
Time ticks by her slowly passing
Taking pieces without asking
Of her heart for more to break
Of her strength and less it takes
To think about the pills she keeps
Next to the bottle where she sleeps
A dreamless slumber in a bed of lies
Alone at night her body writhes
In pain brought on by an unseen source
Breath is stolen by an unknown force
Blood drenched sheets under paper skin
Slowly dying for her sins
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Desperation took her there to the place she feared to go
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Terror chills my spine as I look down.
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IN THE CIRCLE OF US
The mind is a wonderful thing to have
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Desperate hands on a face of silk
Tormented soul drenched with guilt
Begging for pardon when she'll pass
Living in secret behind
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Poetry: Desperation
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