Tortured I am Free
Lost I am free
Focused I am lost
Sentimental I cannot
Forever young I am not
Take for granted
Life is gone
No more breaths to take
I need air
Because I have none
Because of turmoil within the heart
It is like a war in there
The tempest will not let up
It will not give up until has what it wants
But all I want is air
The air is much better away from you
You were not what you seemed
So please let me have my air
And you go and have yours
Just let me be and let me breathe
About the Creator
The Devil's Cut
“Comrade, finally you’re awake.” The voice was smooth, sensual. A flickering incandescent bar was all that lit the white, sterile room. All Vladimir remembered was everything going black. He tried to move his arms and found them strapped to the gurney.
By Matthew J. Fromm7 days ago in Fiction
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