Monday, May 3, 2010

Untitled #18

Sometimes it gets hard to espy,
but the killer of me never wanted me to die.
Blinding me never altered my cry
The iniquity of my sorrow
Well it gets harder to convey
Continually trying to demolish
The hearts that tell of today
Impossible is the sword
Above the walk way
On the Arch
That as much as I turn
It won't rip open my heart


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