Sunday, 20 February 2011
I don't like the ending of this. It says what I want it to say but it doesn't say it in the right way. Expect to see more revisions. I've found that second-guessing myself is an art.
Some ideas are more lethal than others,
Some infect the mind like leeches-
Sticking, sucking, draining the host
Until there’s nothing left but a hollow shell.
Some obsessions are more fatal than others,
Some disease the system like parasites-
Stealing, corrupting, straining the host
Until there’s nothing left but darkness.
Some thoughts are more detrimental than others,
Some devour the mind like a draped blanket-
Wholly, solely for the purpose of murder.
Some notions are unavoidable,
Like the notion that I’m better off dead.