A Troubled thought, my way passed
Of a desert dry and vast.
Voices cough, bodies squirm,
Each trying to evade their turn.
All things new fade away.
What is visceral now refuses to stay.
Under a light sky and heavy sun
Walk we must until day is done.
There are those who try and run ahead
Damien smiles as another soul he's fed.
Sand shift under our feet.
Fickle, how our lives are fleet.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 11:59 AM UTC