The TBI Chatroom
The Life, and Beginning
The light through darkness came as it has from the beginning,
and as a knife cuts, the rays like slivers split the darkness,
exposing life to hope.
The world was new with gleaming rays,
as if the sleep of the coma was the rebirth of life.
The death like sleep has passed, leaving in its wake
a hollow shell with the harsh reality of emptiness,
drifting aimlessly in a foreign world.
The grasp for life brings forth the unveiling of truth
that cuts depths thought unreachable,
leaving scars in the already disfigured flesh.
Who dares to tell the story, but the liar,
or the torn flesh that fights for the gift of life?
This is a tale from mindless flesh,
fighting in a morbid state as it hangs between life,
The clouded blur of time passes as one day over laps another,
the calendar marks their only existence,
for they are all the same to the mind that can t remember.
The hell is lived, but who can say, for where is the mark,
the mental mark that divides the thoughts.
What is the value of the mind that has no direction,
and a body with no control?
Oh death, where is your gentle kiss?