Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Awaiting the miracle or the myth.
A rock or a stone.
Little is left, almost gone.
Forgiveness is divine.
All of which were left behind,
Others taken over to the other side.
Left to bare the strength among the pits of a fiery hell,
Where the desolate spirit remains jailed.
A waste land of the meek and petty,
Yet still awaiting sovereignty.
A doubtful appearance in this place.
Throw to the wind to watch the wretched pieces descend.
In among the spiritless, the brothel of wickedness.
The honorable replaced with the hangdog face.
Dysphoria begins to prance among the others heads,
While they sleeplessly linger in their beds.
Awaiting for the hour,
As they have given in to the power.
Awaiting for fate to be placed,
All to be lost in the desperate eyes of the hangdog face...