....There were six
then five
then four
Now in silence
after the war
that no one won
I listen to the symphony
of failed angels
of how they
were underscored
Trust in meaningless man
not a God thought
of fearing man
Out of tune , out of key
hums the
cherished sound
of disarryied
dissonance
The caked dried blood
flowing inside
our viens
powder puff
breath
With all that was made
fold and press
put up and away
It's just a paper cut
but the
Drip , Drip , Drip
becomes a
Sunday
sacrifice
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 8:30 AM UTC
....There were six
then five
then four
Now in silence
after the war
that no one won
I listen to the symphony
of failed angels
of how they
were underscored
Trust in meaningless man
not a God thought
of fearing man
Out of tune , out of key
hums the
cherished sound
of disarryied
dissonance
The caked dried blood
flowing inside
our viens
powder puff
breath
With all that was made
fold and press
put up and away
It's just a paper cut
but the
Drip , Drip , Drip
becomes a
Sunday
sacrifice
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