Author: Weapon PM
A non coherent stream of thought. Really, this is easily the wierdest thing I've ever written. At least check it out, alright? I want to see if you someone can make something of this.Rated: Fiction T - English - Poetry/Spiritual - Words: 240 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 02-08-07 - Status: Complete - id: 2317088
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A bitter wind rises, and the chair sits lower.
In the west, a cry for mercy.
In the east, a call for the common man.
The life of the many, so based on the death of the one?
Fate sits on her porch, and takes a drag.
Gotta love that Mary Jane.
So fine, in that red dress.
The world turns and justice is served.
The innocent rejoice. The guilty smile despite themselves.
An unshaven man has cold feet.
The object of his affection smiles in quiet resting.
Smoke curls around the world, and the sun takes a nap.
"The first he's had in years." We say to ourselves
as we amble through our blindness.
The first step is always a doozey.
The second always a killer.
The third a welcome breath.
The fourth a summer breeze.
The fifth a passive judgement.
The sixth an act of treason.
The seventh, a bitter ascent.
And so on in that order.
The lamb and I accept our fate...
But he bleeds first, of course.
That is the custom.
And it's a shame to break the pillar
That lifts the world away from the ash of it's predecessors.
Oh, lord of all hopefulness, lord of all joy.
Temper fair with gentle air, the sunshine and the rain.
So that the earth, with timely birth
Can sue for damages.
She needs the money more than me.
With open arms comes eternity.