<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/3700846452925359763?origin\x3dhttp://dedicationfromhatetolove.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
Saturday, November 21, 2009 Ö
Posted by yourname @ 6:07 AM

the rising sun puntured
the dawn sky with streaks of red
i woke up with the heat splashed right through me

oh,how i hate the sun!

so i did my chores dully
wishing secretly it would be
my favourite day

got to my bedroom
to my lovin' bed
took my violin and gently played it

when the violin sings
the red sickening sky begans to break
arising of the darkest hour
with its sad tasting tears

when the violin sings
the flowers closed their windows
those pretty birds flew to their home
but i will get out
to see the first droplets of diamond
touched my palms

but as hours passed by
the violin's voice makes the tears
falls down rapidly with the sounds
of swords crashing together
the bright yellow scars breaks through
the soft black fluffy cotton clouds

so i stopped the violin from singing
and covered my face with pillows
not wanting to see the last
droplet of diamond from
above to fall down

when the day ends meet
i promised to write a song
which i know it would start
gently with my violin

when the violin sings
i'll get out to see
the red sickening sky begans to break
arising of the darkest hour
with its sad tasting tears
and the flowers closed their windows
those pretty birds flew to their home
to see...

the last droplet of diamond

Labels:



I am imagination. I can see what the eyes cannot see. I can hear what the ears cannot hear. I can feel what the heart cannot feel . - Peter Nivio Zarlenga