Shattered Sand.
As i look over my shoulder, i cant help but see
The broken mirror resembling my teared memories,
The hurt,
The pain,
The people ive blamed.
And then i feel the scars, that are on my arms,
the feeling of evils, destruction and calm.
But deep inside,
Its impossible to hide,
the truth that those scars are no good.
I try to conceal away beneath a hood,
of loneliness in my own mind.
But the negative impulses my hand always seems to find,
reach for the blade, as im misunderstood.
Theres no need for this shame,
The black darkness that covers my heart, and trys to hide my pain,
and ruin my life.
So i throw away the blade, the knife,
My life restarts, i start to understand,
how to walk over this valley of shattered sand.
Also, a small one, thats just a general little idea that popped into my head
Poor ol' Rich Man:
Oh, poor rich man, how are you today?
is it possible your too sad to say?
No family, no wife, no friends to call?
Are you too rich, too famous, for them all?
You think that im jealous of you?
with your finesnake skin shoes?
your fancy office, your fancy cars?
All you money, Your gold credit cards?
I may be poor and I may be unknown,
But at least I have a family to call my own,
Mate, whats all the money in the world,
if you pretty much, all alone?

I HATE IT WHEN I DONT CAPITALIZE MY I's! -grr-