Memories tear at my soull, like <br />rips on paper. Actions scatter my thoughts <br />like angry words. And like my thoughts <br />on those rips of paper my words are <br />scatterd on the floor__I ly there <br />with them curled up in a ball of <br />lies and while I try to find <br />my words, scattered the truth still <br />lies. Lies find me and cover the <br />truth, like the color black on a <br />stain. And water can't wash this <br />away like tears in the rain. And <br />like the tears in the rain and <br />the black on the stain I am gone, <br />but not forgotten. I am the <br />unwritten memory on <br />the ripped paper whose <br /> words are scattered on <br /> the floor lying there <br /> like a balled up piece <br /> of paper of lies <br /> losing it's truth <br /> with a stain <br /> covered <br /> by black <br /> that <br /> cries <br /> in <br /> the rain <br /> still gone <br /> but, not <br /> forgotten.<br /><br />Mrs. Vicious Demon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-i-am-14/
