Weary
A story changed
The past decides to rearrange
Writing days
A history estranged
Further gone
The novel sings a different song
To what belongs
And now the heart is wrong
The summers drain our weary minds
And every winter dies inside
And in the lies
We’ve nothing true to hide
A restless dream
The statues carved won’t let us breathe
When what we’ve seen
Is denied through darkest means
The falls will prey on all our love
And in the spring we’re stuck with the above
So much blood
All because the memories flood
Copyright © Ian Petch | Year Posted 2007
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