can you trust what occupies the imagination?
bewildering and thumping nations redefined
a running gag of sorts, a mercy for a low blow
bruises that heal deeper than we intent to show
the new heights, walls we have yet to climb
foretold the dates disclosing the tribute
the ritual, routine and clockwork it demanded
we are afraid of war so we draw dilapidations of hope
greater objects overturned by machine manmade
men earned this desolation ringing at the heartstrings.
beginning to recuperate my breath pace
alongated nails whose metrics tempt me
as I grind imperfect teeth rolling on the tongue
kept shut, not much has changed since otherwise
in need for sun rays
what could not stop me left me for dead
December has rapidly become the most hated month
of this advancing calendar we have been forced upon
the aftermath of chance adds to the effect of fractured brokens
wounded prides, afflicted egos and children sat listening out for static
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário