Wide eyes and small hopes mean nothing to the dying,
So many try but never understand the stagnant bitterness,
Mired deep into the souls of the apathetic waiting to go.
The meat puppets dance and break their strings with teeth,
Sharpened long ago by the diamond hard edge of life,
And round we go again to hate and sweet agony.
By ashes we are covered with the stink of our own dispair,
Fearing the rain that would cleanse our flesh with light,
Clinging to scraps of loathing wrapped in doubt.
So the world shakes and angels cry out,
Scolding deaf ears far below them that no longer care,
Falling into pits dug with eager hands covered in blood.
And memory fades to nothing with the wail of pain,
From blackened lips tasting the poison of promise,
But drinking deep from springs of regret.
J. K. Stuart - 2006Back To Top
