|The Time Has Come My Little Friends
Author: Countess of the Spires PM
We all screw up sometimes. Christians aren't perfect, and I feel the most imperfect sometimes, so This poem is about inner struggles. Specifically about being what they classify a 'Christian Goth'. Balancing morbidity and innocence. . . What can I say?Rated: Fiction K - English - Poetry/Spiritual - Words: 183 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 1 - Published: 04-01-07 - Status: Complete - id: 2342043
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Like an angel sewn in black,
It's time I got a sanity check
Nonsense is good enough sense for me
Like picking cherries from an apple tree
Up and away, I can't go wrong
As nonexistent as a raven's song
Even Icarus, phobic of heights
Would gladly fall to see these sights
Inside my head, I can't escape
To find the key to throw back these drapes
If people saw in, like I saw out
Would it determine what I'm all about?
"The time has come," the surgeon said,
"To dissect many things,
Her mind box and her loyalties,
But, mainly, her heart strings."
The jury ruled, the case, it closed,
The evidence the biopsy-
'To pray for vision and read the Truth,'
'Twas the remedy.
One day I'll find a thousand crows,
And around their legs will tie
A thousand orange ribbons that
I can hang on by
I'll raise my voice to fearsome squawk
And I, Autumn's Queen of Crows,
Will rise so high and sweep away,
To where the dreams all go.