Was it necessary to bang my head on your head
board when you came? What's the point of this
medieval circus of bodies, tragedy and pain? No
wonder the martyrs lashed their shoulders
in repentence covering up the blows from
yesterday's folly.
Each harbinger swears on a new message
the one that will save my life. Hollering
redemption from every corner cornering
the market of lies. My concussion's one more
reminder of the pallbearers swaying my demise.
No comments:
Post a Comment