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Jun 26
Upon my steel face, will it rain
upon my gleaming eyes, it will be made
the envy of a soul,
trapped in perfect face
to no great final resting place

My legs, drilled into the ground
my eyes, upturned to sky unwound
released of tears and raining down
to broken glass
and grass
their souls unbound

To stare deep into a darkened me,
my admirers creep along my metal sheen
as my material decompose,
to save my thoughts from endless woe

"So long!", will I be endless seen
abrupt, *****, incongruously
commanding these vistal centuries
of concrete and perjury

poking up grey thumbs among the hills
while the putrid stench under burrows
My fingers, ever curled, do maestrate
The doleful victims of that loving fate

And when you walk upon my land,
and see my metal hanging hands
Know my voice, hear my dreams
to never make the enemy of me.
Bryce
Written by
Bryce  M/San Francisco, CA
(M/San Francisco, CA)   
120
   Anthony Mayfield
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