When Left To Dream...You Find Me Crying.
Ramshackled heart,
rusted chains of indifference,
scars the arms with jagged cuts,
lines encased in deep throated laughs,
gagging on the insolent indifference.
Walk that mile in shoes of lead,
weighted down with suffrance,
magnetized with fetid truths,
masks of righteous lies,
and truths that barely scrap the earth.
When eyes are opened,
the ones sewn shut,
and the brightness blinds for moments,
the stinging breath of something known,
this life is just the dream.
Copyright © Paul Rees-Jones | Year Posted 2010
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