Deadening the Days
the cool eastern muds of a destroyed day
the still,vacant bodies awaiting decay
a tear shed for a soul
a heart broken now a hole
Wade in the safety of a western morn
steady your head, prepare for your storm
Reach for an end to this despair
with bleeding fingers, and tangled hair
scream a scream as loud as a war
roar a roar as large as a boar
the silence will still come, and then who will love you?
Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2010
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