And when the clock strickes twelve,
We're all left to ourselve.
Will I find you even in the darkest times?
Even when you left your candle without signs.
I'm trying to escape the labyrinth
And finding the entrance again,
So I can start from the beginning
And fix all my future mistaking.
Is it hell in there without your own desire,
Faking and crying through the life of a liar.
Deciding if it's worth the while and acting without a goal in sight
In the moonlight you leave your body without trace and fight.
For the hell of it you scream my name
And burn down the crisis and blame.
Can't help it without the screaming
Or leaving the map on the ceiling.
For me to find you in the middle of dying
And finding out why you've been hiding.
I thought you might just want to leave it
Without explaining and just delete it.
Then you loose your last breath times,
I try to fight for your life time,
But you won't let me help you out,
Cause you were the one they found out.
Now I'm left on my own in the streets,
And have to find a new type of peace.
Though you can never come back,
Now I have to feel like that.
I'm standing in the new apartment
Alone without your arms around me and partly,
I hate that you left me,
But I can't change a thing about it.
YOU ARE READING
Drunk under a Streetlight | poetry
Poetrypoetry /ˈpəʊɪtri/ noun literary work in which the expression of feelings and ideas is given intensity by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature.
