Im pitched in a two concrete rows, <br />stitched by two sharps claws, <br />where will i go? <br />in a long thread of a clue <br />or a short span of burrows. <br /> <br />Seemingly argued by id and <br />super-ego. But this ego remain <br />uncertain of which is which. <br />Is this psycho path or obnoxious <br />way of dumping myself. <br /> <br />My window creates lit and gives <br />me more unfaithful thoughts, <br />but the sound of my room quietly <br />gives me wisdom to whom i shall <br />believe and start with. <br /> <br />I haven't raise the vow to anyone, <br />I didn't kneeled truly to someone, <br />I wasn't give the truths but hurts, <br />I never love myself until now, <br />nor i understood the life beneath. <br /> <br />Indeed, I feel the grandeur, <br />splendid with regrets, <br />fullness of lieu but no one <br />actually remember my expectancy, <br />rather life must go on as they'd say.<br /><br />immanuel santos<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/im-a-fool-2/
