"End the cycle".
Valiant words
whispered under a poet's breath,
but you know better than I
the gravity of the situation,
a dark ant
marching beneath
Uncle Sam's soulless stare.
We walk a fine line,
separated--
a stark difference
intensified
as we cast away
shades of gray between.
Surely you know
it's not as easy as you think,
because nothing ever ends--
our eyes flit about
at the whim of our attention.
You'll slip into the cracks--
obscured
by our fickle need for truth
while my stomach tightens--
drinking this honey sweetened tea,
watching the firefighter
rescue the cat in the tree,
and all that remains of you
will be those "amethyst rocks".
I may be left in the shadows,
wondering how your story ends,
but you--
you'll be living it,
"slinging your amethyst rocks"
as I amble on,
imagination
forced to fill in the gaps.
 Butterzworth · Sat May 07, 2011 @ 01:21am · 0 Comments |
