[i find, while working, the calm hand of Truth]
By kevin
i find, while working, the calm hand of Truth my niche at the corner of the world martyrdom: serving, to the destruction of myself, O how the winds turn cold at the passing of Summer. some of us still wear red shoes to the office, & beautiful mascara but my eyes have been dead, since since I lost humanity, and it lost me. what's the good of service to a dead world all I hold on to is a fragment of the past there are no more dreams among us: the sky is silent with sorrow, it's lost son dead. children wander by me, and I can't see any hope in them, either. They're nailing shut the coffin - the hole is dug: push it in.stanzas, images Written July 10th, 2001 © on Jul 10 2001 04:14 AM PST, Kevin Watt 0 • 1
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"i find, while working, the calm hand of Truth..."