It Remains To Be Heard
By sidewinder
Arrive to touch at seventeen, feel within that sunrise where life had just begun, just as you reach to touch those dreams, Complexities mire to rush beyond your hand and you're left wondering.... Why? Blind hope celebrates and laughs at you, Jeering... never leaving you alone, Hostilities feel you in a rage, But somehow it must be met as a challenge, To do anything else is futile, Like howling in the wind where in that echo it remains to be heard. Dec. 10, 2001 Written December 24th, 2001 © on Jun 07 2002 10:35 AM PST, Billy E. Whitehorn angst
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"Arrive to touch at seventeen,..."