Inane Rove

 

 

She chose strife over death
Cloudy skies over rain
And fills the void with pleasure and pain
She runs from the madman

Only calmed by the storm
Within her eyes of gray
Sorrow filled and forlorn

She trades panic
For freedoms prison
Though a heart of clay

Still she won’t give in
Hopelessly she buries the hatchet
And hides in this world
A terrible racket

Too late
Too late
Time to heal

Melt into the warmth of another flesh feel
Don’t cry while I dry my eyelids of steel
She chose life over threats
Cloudy eyes over drained
Filling the void with roving inane

Written by Stack Jones
© Copyright 2010

 

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