to remove from mind
to keep it, mine.
to peek through the window
to keep from being stuck in limbo.
not living, but killing time
something like that.
still breathing, but wasting time
not much different, this year of rat.
How strange, how odd
Very adept at preaching speech
But alas, a facade
My own promises never to keep
Words are weapons,
much like sticks and stones.
But the battle is different
when your enemy's over the phone.
VII times past from VII times gone
forces a smile tinged with forlorn
a battle lost, innocence gone
doesn't feel like this war was won.
more was lost than
care to admit
what was gained
not much help in defeat.
bleakness in spades
hope betrayed.
now, turn this round
be unafraid.
building steam with a grain of salt
Sunday, February 10, 2008
navigate using the bars above