Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Broken Teenage Soul

chains hands



Eighteen years old
With trouble worth the weight of gold
To the devil your soul was sold
You just wanted to escape the fold.

Tormented you lied,
Broken, you cried
You carry your bullshit pride
I know you - you, deep inside.

What happens now,

Will you wander the street,
Will you have what to eat,
And when you get beat,
Sleeping on a subway seat.

Eighteen year old,
Dangerous turf, ah - you're so bold
You're not breaking the mold
This story has gotten so old.

Child, little broken boy you are
Can you save yourself, and be who you are
Do you know the value of life, dont you thirst
Or do you need to die, do you need to die first.

Eighteen year old,
Reclaim your soul.


broken wings

6 comments:

  1. JD, you put so much pain of so many souls into words, like only you know how to do...
    oh, save all the broken teenage souls!!!! from the streets & subway seats...

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  2. i said it on myspace, and i'll say it again....a perfect expression of the mindset at this age. i knew everything at 18!

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  3. wow, very moving, it sounds like my story.

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  5. Hey, I knew you years ago..... Through all your life's ups and downs, the genius in you still remained. Keep on writing. You are an inspiration.

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