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Deepest Darkness of my Soul
This is the story of my life, or lack thereof, and anything that eats its way into my head.
Poim
Luk! A poim!

Anybody tell me what it's about, they win a million dollers.*
*Mebbey.

Every other stanza should be indented, but Gaia Doesn't Do That.
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Whimsy, my pretty!
Oh, Whimsy, my dear,
born in that city
where I shed not one tear.

Turn rack,
whip crack.
Bone break,
heartache.

Whimsy, sweet fancy,
my eyes never were dry
when I lay, drowned in moonlight,
under meadowsweet sky.

Bone mend,
will bend.
Never die,
neverend.

But I never knew you, dear,
I never dreamed!
Whimsy, I wandered,
oh, Whimsy, I sinned.

Face life,
steel fife.
Dog dead,
shadowfed.

Those days and those nights
in the city, I fear,
have bought me and broke me
beyond disrepair.

Turn rack.
Will bend.
Dog dead.
Severed.

But Whimsy, my pretty,
oh, Whimsy my dear!
Born in that ciy
where I shed not one tear!






User Comments: [1] [add]
The Oxford Comma
Community Member
avatar
commentCommented on: Thu Jun 18, 2009 @ 04:25pm
Then she slowly saw their nightmares were her d r e a m s



Not exactly sure what it's about
I LYKE IT


User Image
{-Silent//Pain-}


User Comments: [1] [add]
 
 
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