And words write. You. Me. We.
from
JoeUser Forums
The anger, the pent up frustration inside,
Seems almost too great for me to describe.
Ancient power does no good when
life is powerless, and the ancient give in.
What hope is in miracles when all turn away,
What happens to angels at the end of the day?
Turn away, turn away, never look back,
Look back at the demons fighting, attack
Attacking the happy, the joyful, the free.
Attacking the children, attacking.
Me.
The truth, it swallows the pride,
dying my death, walking with strides, of worth
that knows nothing of gold, nothing of cobble stones and granite from hearth.
Long. Long is the day, long are the words we say,
when we try to relate, when we’re falling away.
From ourselves.
Peace.
Hold my hand, let me know that when I stand,
that I can be not alone, that I can understand the triangles,
or the circles that haunt with spirit hands. What?
What is this trivial sleeze, when things are alive? the breeze
blows me to newer pages where I have no words.
And words write greater swords. And words write rambling lords.
And words write.
You. Me. We.
Seems almost too great for me to describe.
Ancient power does no good when
life is powerless, and the ancient give in.
What hope is in miracles when all turn away,
What happens to angels at the end of the day?
Turn away, turn away, never look back,
Look back at the demons fighting, attack
Attacking the happy, the joyful, the free.
Attacking the children, attacking.
Me.
The truth, it swallows the pride,
dying my death, walking with strides, of worth
that knows nothing of gold, nothing of cobble stones and granite from hearth.
Long. Long is the day, long are the words we say,
when we try to relate, when we’re falling away.
From ourselves.
Peace.
Hold my hand, let me know that when I stand,
that I can be not alone, that I can understand the triangles,
or the circles that haunt with spirit hands. What?
What is this trivial sleeze, when things are alive? the breeze
blows me to newer pages where I have no words.
And words write greater swords. And words write rambling lords.
And words write.
You. Me. We.


And it's not crap!! Chin up!
Procrastination works for me, though...so I'll stick with it.