Wednesday, November 30, 2005


the black nights yield no answers
soft spoken words of destruction
meander though a bridge collapsing
search out the truth in an alleyway
the closest to the edge
before failing.

tired and down in the mud,
is this the best of god, or the innocent
will suffer some more, just enough.

pretend that these dreams don't exist,
or wake to find nothing was ever real
to begin the departure, make sure
that the lines are clear, but unfortunate.

the polls don't show enough,
but in the eyes of those watching
who can breathe in some refreshments.
and forgive the lies.


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