Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Absentminded

Will you sell your soul to the devil for me?
Yes, I heard myself answering that question
without any hesitation, absentminded.

The thought of hope was shining bright
forgotten hidden corners of realities
covered traps to the bottomless pits.

Drama it was, as cliche as it could be
since I did sell myself to you
without any hesitation, absentminded.

To the bottomless pit the journey shall pass
answers lost in the never-ending why
and I'd find myself half-buried.

Feed upon emptiness
I bequeath the half-self
to the passing time.

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