Honestly,
If you can look in my eyes and fail to see
The anger that built up in me
Or the hate that seemed there to be
And still see the beauty
… then you don’t see me
If you don’t hear, what got fucked up
what on the way out got stuck
and still hear honestly
… then you don’t hear me
If you don’t feel, when I touch
Or when I grab you in your crotch
Or don’t feel the decency
… then you don’t feel me
If I told you I didn’t fancy that guy
Or told you yet another lie
And you would still believe
… then you don’t know me
And I you can’t watch me cry
Or hear me say I want to try
And I will never have to beg nor plead
… then you don’t give a fuck about me
Godvader: | Zondag, juli 17, 2005 12:36 |
words blown into an oblivian...you once reacted on a poem of mine 'Corrupted child of attitude' i'd like to return the favour and i speak in english 'cause your name referrs to someone from ireland (how typical:P) G. |
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The unreachable: | Dinsdag, december 28, 2004 14:08 |
Wauw..shockerend gedicht. En wel mooie structuur met eerst de ogen, de oren, de handen,..en die laatste zinnetjes per paragraafje..knap gedaan! Strange poem..but not strange in a wrong way, strange in a special way..strange in a nice way ;-) |
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Auteur: irish | ||
Gecontroleerd door: christina | ||
Gepubliceerd op: 11 december 2004 | ||
Thema's: |