Listening to old songs
about the similar pain
I felt like memories of
youth and present as they melt.

I feel the pain of cotton
as my mouth dries under
the burning liquor that burns
in my veins.

Yet sometimes I taste
the burning crystal shards
of salt that seasons
the world around my discomfort.

Then nothing comes,
and you are always
promising me hope.

Ironic isn't it, life
is not that simple,
and we run in droves
to our hidden masks.

A electronical masquarade
to cover the angstful
broken shards of
salt.

Everyone's insult
can not hide the
disproval in your
shallow eyes.

Life goes on,
and broken promises
of broken habits
linger in my lungs,
but you'll be there
to laugh at me.

And I'll see you tomorrow
as you laugh at me
with snickers and fake
grins.

11/25/2006

Posted on 11/25/2006
Copyright © 2025 Christopher Shin