Monday, January 30, 2012

Mercy 404




There hangs a light that runs through many veils
And never turns nor stops to catch the air.
The tombstones underneath it tell of tales
Before their beds of brittle grass were there.

There lies a light; A beam within the dark
That catches eyes of wanderers who pass
This wretched cemetery, never art
Unless a poet's poems ever-last.

There falls a light through lesions of my heart
That stresses ties like corset blended pain.
No fear of what's to come but of the parts
Of past mistakes that grind against my grain.

A light is less a lover than a friend
Until the time has come to face an end.

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