the 18th of January, 1977
It was a cold, dark night.
The moon was buried in the clouds.
It was the 18th of January, 1977,
and soon to be the19th.
There was nothing important on its way.
Just the sand blowing across the sky,
and the loneliness around it.
A child soon to be born.
To journey his life,
through the open doors of depression.
To never feel loved,
to form a social aggression.
Staying up endless nights in tears,
pondering the meaning of life.
Is it all worth it,
is there really happiness out there.
Childhood ends to soon,
and you have to face the world.
Let it destroy the only feelings you hide inside.
It tells you up front,
the pain only gets worse as you grow older.
There is no laughter,
only the laughter of a lonely coward.
As a child you wish to be grown up,
once grown you wish you never wished.
As a child you never wanted to sleep,
but now that's all you want to do.
Its the easiest way,
to not have to face the world.
You sleep your life away, and get nowhere.
You wake up every morning,
not knowing what to look forward too.
When that day comes, it passes so quick.
Theirs nothing to look forward too,
not even a birthday.
It's just a reminder of that cold dark night.
When the moon was buried in the clouds.
-Oblivion77-
Copyright © 2001, Oblivion77.
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