Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Old Writings 2

Wake the dead. Rise up from you cold tombs. Let the sun warm you as you open your eyes to the new morning.

A new morning. Some say it’s a chance to start again. Really its just another day of hell. Walking, yet not feeling. Talking, yet not hearing. Smiling, yet crying.

Hide my tears. Close the window to my soul. Let not the pain and sorrow leak through the crevices.
Does anyone see the soul? Have the curtains been pulled tight enough to shutter the despair lurking behind them?

Bar the windows, Close your eyes. They are the window to your soul.

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