||[Nov. 29th, 2005|01:17 am]
Poets of the Night
Of my twisted heart that lies within,
I feel it hurting against my skin.
Harder, faster as seconds go by,
Clinging, to the last few beats of life.
Soaked and dripping of a crimson stain,
Bleeding away the poison and pain.
Empty is my soul, dead is my core,
I am nothing less or nothing more.