The Evening of My Soul
oh 'tis the evening of my soul and though I've often claimed it so,
now must pause and truly show
the scars and twisted wounds herein
for onward is no option now
and time must take its' bloody bow
where are the hands that soothed my burning brow
and where the smile to cheer me in my grief?
why they have gone to dust and none remain
the evil in the heart of time,the thief.
so pull the shades and bank the dying fire,
and please don't try to tell me that you care,
it really matters not how cold the bier
for when you look,there's nothing really there.
Copyright © Jesse Thompson | Year Posted 2006
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