Tearstained Pages.
-x-
When it hurts to go back and re-read passages and verses...
When you're too scared to turn the page incase you have to reface old curses.
When things that you've forgotton come back to haunt you...
...And the pages of your past just turn to taunt you.
-x-
My pads are all stained by the pain of the past where happiness once played the games I know lack.
Each page, front and back, ranges from stages of fact in cages stacked dangerously,
Considered painless but heinously painful when collapsed and raining aimlessly.
Already tearstained by my last escape, but the fear remains and so does the hate...
Each line is a plain reminder of times that have changed,
A sane set of signs that coincides with the rhymes,
Headed by a name in which resides the belated weighted sighs, the ill-fated forgotton cries,
And the recreated mistakes I offen pray I'll never find.
I hate to be reminded of times my mind described as subsided...
Of miles I thought were beaten and of skies I dreamt defeated...
Each set of lines is deepened by the stanza sent to weaken...
And each of these words are mine and they are all of my meaning.
Adventures of mis-leading dreams or of stories not quite what they seem...
A gory recount of a rapist and a hidden message to what it means...
A series of schemes now set in screams, and a constant requiem of what has been...
My once forgotten past being redeemed in my reappearing tears,
As I recount all the years and the pain of all my ages...
And I recount the same number of tearstained pages.
-x-
When it hurts to go back and re-read passages and verses...
When you're too scared to turn the page incase you have to reface old curses.
When things that you've forgotton come back to haunt you...
...And the pages of your past just turn to taunt you.
-x-
I used to dream daily and my tearstained pages vaguely express this,
Its amazing that I hate this when I excpect it to one day re-ascess this...
To hopefully repent it, And say yes that I meant it...
And see each tearstain as a memory of many days that I vented...
So many ways I created such crazed diary entries so excellently frustrated, all headed and dated.
All set in made up places where dazed faces paced hastely towards the awards that awaits thee...
Scores of won wars and of battles caused by matters reinforced by messages brought forward,
Stored awkwardly in ink. Many memories I often think are horded together blindly in links,
I look back at the chain of memories in winks and hints,
I start to rethink each episode I bestowed on the cold paper...
Of all the lines I left it to hold and never finished it later...
I hate to be reminded of all the times Ive been repeated,
And all the tearstains are the games in which my mind was defeated.
Each drop is a symbol is for each time I cowered beneath the thimble...
Each drip is the rekindled cries that I am single...
Each stain is a grace and a face that doesn't mingle...
A ripple of a wave in the pages of my past.
A pistol or a cave in which I engrave my craves for fact. A fiction Ive replayed for many days,
Yet still perhaps make me enraged, Each page is a stamp and a metaphor for my tears...
As I recount the pages that I have cried throughout the years.
-x-
When it hurts to go back and re-read passages and verses...
When you're too scared to turn the page incase you have to reface old curses.
When things that you've forgotton come back to haunt you...
...And the pages of your past just turn to taunt you.
-x-
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I did my best to edit the structure, ionno, if the flows off or the structure whatever, i really had to play around with this... Anyways, drop feed please....
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=183033
http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/showthread.php?t=183517
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