Crooked Nails

Looking up to counter blue
I see streaked white.
A single scar upon the face of clear azure.

Surely the world is taking its toll
And one can only take so much
How does one realize a problem
When it is self-prescribed

Whos to say your sane
When everyone says your dying
A simple task most would say
But when was the last time you died?

And I wonder
Does the sky also bite it's nails
To remember its still alive.
Last edited by MantaExpo at Jul 7, 2008,
you're promoting the concept of portrayal in a light that may only shine on some.
a little risky too with the idea. it's very cliche, but i think you may be aware of that already. i wouldn't really worry about that at the moment, though.

try several different approaches to this same idea. maybe even re-write the piece, itself.
become comfortable in the seats of your audience.
when you make a new throw, the aim will have improved. i promise.
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.

- Jericho Caine

secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.