It's a crying shame,
this crying game.
(We lie this way, we die the same.)
All of the color comprising the snow-
a planet of ice keeping the sky aglow.
Absence of color feeds our distress.
A void in the conscious; a void in our chests.
Cure the illness. (The mental sickness!)
Fight the option. (Develop conscience!)
By car, by plane, by boat- we drive.
On foot, on wings, on hopes- we strive.
Friday, November 06, 2009
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