Wednesday, 5 March 2014

Of Bones and Hate

In the heart of every human face
Lies the sweat of our lost grace
For in this shadow world of form
We are from each other torn

And knowing not what we must be
We wander lost, and long for to be free
Free from all our shackles torn
Though without our flesh we are forlorn

And from our thoughts which wander there
From there is all our terror born

And so we cry for what the broken morning brings
Caged birds alone are the only ones which sing

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