12 The Hanged Man
By thepawn
Truths pull me in opposite directions For every mistake a bombardment of corrections Truths roll out of my mouth like black hearses Lies fly out of my mouth like spent curses Finding the source of water Is hard when the trail is dusty And I am all alone Stalled by my own indecision I wait for the mob to pass me By the time I have reached the oasis All the water is stagnant And all wisdom in despair obscured Itching with impatience, I wait for the mob Over their heads come rain clouds To wash these deceptions away I can taste pure drops on my tongue Just as I am overcome By the ravenous locusts Who would defile that which they crave To absolve themselves of past wrongs For my objections voiced I am looked upon with hasty eyes As someone evil and greedy Paralyzed by my own fear I stand still, already crucified With a weight on my heart The fury of a man tortured The insanity of a man ignored I preach my gospel to those I can All the feasting vultures know The story of the hanged man Written November 17th, 2001 © on Nov 17 2001 04:59 AM PST 0 • 1
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"Truths pull me in opposite directions..."