Time itself is bended.
To cease for that special moment.
Where blade to skin too, I cut my sonnet.
To the aches and pains that must be forgotten,
And putrid, hateful thoughts...may they remain buried rotting.
To forget those hateful days of woe,
And to make a friend of every foe.
To love, and give and never take,
To resolve to Live, and n'er die,
Though there may be days made to Break,
Me, myself and I.
In the year that is speeding toward me.
Up ahead.
Happy new year to all, Yea, thats what I said.
~
Adding your comment:
I love New Years Eve because it is a whole new year and there's so much potential in it. It can be made or broken, it's all new turf to do with it whatever you want. Risks, chances... and you protrayed that well in here. I like the line about cutting your sonnet, thats an interesting way to portray poetry (in more than one form, with the blade). Have a great New Year!
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