the world forgave me,
but just one person,
myself

no house of God,
man of faith,
or divine scroll
preached my salvation

and with a moving rope
bruising my neck
I found no soul,
to aid my sinking self

but a million sad faces,
trapped in shadows
of what they called light

with the left as a right,
and the right as a left
that the center,
was but a dream

and with the scars of a past,
itching, and bleeding
peeling our own flesh,
beneath our broken nails,

an awareness estranged
trying to erase,
the slates of our distorted minds

to mark the graves,
of our lost souls
the cries, of our wounded hearts