Sunday, September 20, 2015

Shack

icicle crystals
cut like a thistle
on my skin when I sat down
500 miles
away from town
yes, and just like they sang
there's not a shirt on my back
not a penny to my name
and now i understand
the lack
and now
the tears fall
on
in vain
they do fall
on
my pain
they do fall
with the emptiness
as I crawl
into this shack ...

with my
shivering skin
blue from the rain
it hits and slides
can't even grip
this cane
can't even grip
the pain
in my
exhaustion
and I'm to blame
yes the one to blame is
me

i have only myself
to blame
when i took the hard way and
wasted away
so far away
from the dawn of day
from the home i loved
like she said while waiting
for the train
as she wore her bolshevik glove
like this, i ran away to the barracks
for what purpose
and for who
i didn't think i was worthy to do
what lives deepest ...
i had to fight and prove

because i didn't know
if i was true enough
kamikaze piloting
to show i was tough
and now is it too late
'cause i'm torn up in rage
but too weak to express
in this cage
that is my body
so few noticed
when i waved
in the lobby
forsaken, heartbroken
i don't know how i'll fare
i don't feel hope
in this cold, desolate air
shivering in the shack
not even near the train track
even clothing i lack
as i fade away
so black
is the night
so bleak
in this shack  ...




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