how i feel today.
"I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stain of time
The feeling disappears
You are someone else
I am still right here
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way"
hurt - Johnny Cash
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stain of time
The feeling disappears
You are someone else
I am still right here
What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end
You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way"
hurt - Johnny Cash
posted by m.reza at 3:09 pm
4 Comments:
Wonderful! Especially these parts “The needle tears a hole, The old familiar sting, Try to kill it all away, But I remember everything” and “I wear this crown of thorns, Upon my liar's chair, Full of broken thoughts, I cannot repair”…
I sensed it , let me right in Farsi……..زخم کهنه ام سرباز کرد ..هرچه کردم از یادم نرفت و درد از هر رگ خاطره به جانم بازگشت...و قسمت بعدی...به دوش خسته می کشم زجر تمام لحظه هایی که مرگ باورهایم را رقم زدند..............درست گفتم معمار...این جوری که می گم معمار یاد شاگرد بناها می افتم که عرق پیشونی شون را با دست گچی پاک می کنند و خیلی هاشون نون شرافت و غرور و پاکی شون را می خورن...از دیدن لباس های خاکی و عرقی شون هم بدم نمیاد و اگه سنم کمتر بود شاید می تونستم عاشق یکی از اونا بشم...اما حالا فقط می تونم داستان عاشقونه در موردشون بنویسم...بزرگ شدن تکبر هم میاره....
I hate it that always there is a “ if” at the end of these similar stories because I have also my own “if”s…
مرا ببخشید گرامی! جای اين کامنت اينجا نيست، اما امن ترین جایی بود که می شناختم.. اينجا می‌گذارمش تا برون ریزم غرورم را نشکند و خالی شوم... ./کلماتت چه آشنايند، رنگ فروزند و عطرشان بغض دارد. انگار کودکی از مادر مرده در گور به دنيا آمده است. ای کاش شعرت به پايان نرسد/. حال دوستی می‌خواهم که مردانه باز سيلی‌ای به صورتم زند...
سلام .از انتخاب زيبايتان لذت بردم . شعر خوبي بودو در نهايت زيبايي سروده شده بود . مرسي
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