As the morning mist
washes away the night,
bringing grey to the day
and a chill to my heart,
i wonder when did this
and just how it did start?
Words that come easy to me,
find me here waiting,
like a supplicant with bloody knees
waiting for the Lord's reprieve
i feel, sometimes, like a child
tugging on his mother's sleeve
for a chance to speak
For so long, this child
was seen and not heard,
have gone half my life
without speaking a word
Now that this bird sings
i have to grade on a curve,
for all is not as it appears
and the nearer you get
the worse it appears,
the smell of the decay and despair
of civilization had never left
and what is the answer
somebody take a guess
for there is no quick fix here...
04-25-10
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