Precious little cookie crumbs
Line them up one by one...
From her sad eyes flow
Crystal tears on broken glass...
Tear stained pages, crumbled papers
Lie on floors, desks, and drawers...
Half man half machine,
You'd think I was the one who invented silence...
Waiting for my death
Not wanting to die...
Looking at photo's of my former self
The long straight hair and kohl eyes...
The paper burns with a certain melody;
she makes suicide an art...
Flipping through a magazine
I spot who I want to be...
I miss the night sky...
The real sky at night...
If everything is destined for a demise
Then I fear the day my ink will run dry...
I want to write more poetry,
more of you, of words that ryhme...
Dear Admiral,
I wonder what color is the...