Turning the pages `

Edicius

The letters slowly pass me by
forming a story, far from a lie..
with emotion far from logically
`necessary consequences
could be interpretated as shy
but still with the power to imply
and me not realizing any things around me that occured
my mind in this story ..
blocked from reality as i preferred
reading & creating my own world..
As the author try's to sympatize
im drowning in his story..
realizing its not all ` clear blue skies
& a strong exceedingly defective voice
of wich one was writtin.. truth was within..
a story line` for readers to make a choice
yet that option was allready set at the beginning
Ive read all the pages yet the answers remained, not to find..
all the chapters reflected a little..of my life..
still its not precise` resambling all thats going on in my mind..
so as im slowly turning my pages ..
life and reality evaluated ..
in good , bad , and several other stages..

Fgee

Encased on a piece of paper bound in a spine
i'm forever reading chapters till i find mine
some sticky with grime others unctouched
i've never ever read or thought about so much
and of course the dust settles all around
but the words are absurd without any sound
now im drowned in an ocean of nouns and verbs
and im perturbed at these words which leap from the page
through the candle lit sky and the eyes that it craves
to an age where thoughts generate an image
of far away places and faces id like to visit
not just in spirit but to witness the writing first hand
as the ink hits the sheets in search of thirsts gland
an immersed man flicking past the scriptures
picking the sheets wisely and glancing at the pictures
hoping he'd whisk her away, his wife that is
to a happier sight instead of the negatives of his
of a delicate bliss where the hits dont happen
he couldnt help himself and the stress from rappin
just an old mans past reminiscing about his ways
a tear drops an blots the writing on his diary page..
he'll keep on turning..

Nahlidge

As the page turns the world burns
While others are lost in fantasies
Randomly catchin' diseases
Plaguin' death on innocent families
Insanity spreads while stories are read
Paintin' pictures in their minds
While they're readin' between the lines
The picture in my eyes could make them blind
10 times the holocaust
Written in fictituous fables
People struggle, and are unable
To put food on their kitchen table
Blood's spilled and love kills
Some only dream about it
On a page it can be seen
But you can't hear them scream about it
The real world, a real girl
A real wound, a real death
Real pain can make you stressed
Unless you choose to read about it instead.