There are 47 articles on this title. You are reading the article ranked and rated #9 by Helium's members.
I can't carry the blade in the storm
Or transform into an unknown form
I'm just a romantic, only a romantic
My hallucinations are exotically fantastic
I read once that 'for blood is the life'
All my fantasies are dying at the rigor of a knife
Where does that leave me, just a dreamer?
I used to ride a cloud speckled Beamer
Among the breath of the blue
I wanted to experience freedom too
Instead I'm mourning the loss of my notions
Seeping through my hands like venomous potions
Why have they disappeared? Why have they died?
Drifting through the valley of death, access denied
Lost, doomed souls, for me, cried
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Poetry: Confessions
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