I dread the day, when we are all dressed in black,
When they gather around and then turn their back.
I fear the time, when all march together,
That day has strength, a gathering of feathers.
I fear the feeling of hearing the sobs,
Everyone scratching and clawing over their jobs.
I hate the bitter, argumentative kind,
Who can’t put it behind them just for one night.
I relish the feeling of blood everywhere,
With all of these people, there’s something I share.
I worry that they still do not understand,
It’s ritual for them to sob into their hand.
I cry deep down inside, yet no tear will flow,
Saved in the ducts until just I can go.
I worry about what the day will bring,
The gathering of love and all of my kin.
I hurt from the memory of six years past,
That the recurrence of this will always last.
I wish that it all could spill from my eyes,
And not remain hidden as I spew out lies.
I care about all, I don’t want to see them,
To regurgitate all and choke up with phlegm.
I threw away the key six short years ago,
I fear that this time my tears will flow.

© PersephoneM 16th April 2008

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  1. July 19th, 2014

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