Early Morning Poetry

Blood. Down your throat, down your face
The end. No more pride, no more grace
You're choking on the words you try to say
and your sins are digging down your grave

Pray no more, there's no God here
Our souls are filthy, whose is clear?
Or if you will, you pray but yet remember
No one listens, no one loves you tender

No one will 'be there' forever
Trust is dull, you're more clever
Drown and die but have you lived with honor?
When no one got to know you, you're just another stoner

I know that you're deeper though
Broken heart, damaged soul
The rest, they see just a facade
If you seek truth, you must seek inside.

Sonnet

Hopeless in the middle of the night I lie

Thinking I was only born to die

Mischievous ghosts are taking all the pain

to put it in my eyes and turn it into rain

Another leaf of hope falling from this tree

This tree now just a trunk of distant memories

By it I sit and listen to the silence

I hear the wind, I see the violence

The good one always walks alone

the closest ones are here but they don't

wish to stay, their place is set

they're the friends that I have never met

The misfortunes of virtue, I thought.

But virtue is not all I've got.

E. Hastings