Monday, June 18, 2007

[In A Vacuum]

There is something stony
About the sun kissed sky…
It rains and shines, and
Withers down to bloom again..
I could never ask why?

I am the yellowed remains
Of every wound…
The ones hiding under
Every brown scar..
Fuming to exhume, yet
Scared of a prick.

I have a face,
And a full set of teeth,
Four limbs installed,
And still I crawl.

[knock knock knock!
Good morning Madam,
We have been called
To build you a metal hall].

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