Post by Mikhael on Oct 12, 2004 20:52:05 GMT -5
Shining
Mik Namlieh
You proudly bear your misery, a ghastly badge, it’s shining
And drawn to you, I cannot see, oh love, for you, repining.
You’re music to a blinded soul, you speak and I’m delirious
And yet though I could plot your face, your eyes remain mysterious.
We’re horrors, you and I, I know, naïve and morbid children
Defying what could save our souls for something to believe in.
I look around and find myself an island in creation
And the sea from which I shield my heart—it reeks of desperation.
Can I pretend I do not feel the current weighing in?
Can I not see that you and I allow the night to win?
The music that consumes you is a song of suicide
And the thoughts that so enthrall you make romantic that we die.
So young are we, and fatalism’s just another way
To deal and thrive on miseries that turn us from the day.
You’re beautiful and flawed as only poetry can be,
And I would hold you tight if it could keep you here with me.
The world outside would love you but I beg you not to go,
For they call you from the darkness. You would touch the light and grow.
We were born such perfect martyrs with conviction of our youth
To give our last for just one mystic burning scrap of truth.
Too late, too late, you hear the call and step into the public eye,
And I, who knew, a coward, who would never dare to try.
And without your light I swallow up the darkness and I die.
Mik Namlieh
You proudly bear your misery, a ghastly badge, it’s shining
And drawn to you, I cannot see, oh love, for you, repining.
You’re music to a blinded soul, you speak and I’m delirious
And yet though I could plot your face, your eyes remain mysterious.
We’re horrors, you and I, I know, naïve and morbid children
Defying what could save our souls for something to believe in.
I look around and find myself an island in creation
And the sea from which I shield my heart—it reeks of desperation.
Can I pretend I do not feel the current weighing in?
Can I not see that you and I allow the night to win?
The music that consumes you is a song of suicide
And the thoughts that so enthrall you make romantic that we die.
So young are we, and fatalism’s just another way
To deal and thrive on miseries that turn us from the day.
You’re beautiful and flawed as only poetry can be,
And I would hold you tight if it could keep you here with me.
The world outside would love you but I beg you not to go,
For they call you from the darkness. You would touch the light and grow.
We were born such perfect martyrs with conviction of our youth
To give our last for just one mystic burning scrap of truth.
Too late, too late, you hear the call and step into the public eye,
And I, who knew, a coward, who would never dare to try.
And without your light I swallow up the darkness and I die.
