- last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT
One I just wrote: "Dying Woman"
Winding, feeling, whipping,
Building of fire and stone,
Is the ashes of fallen generations,
Making a pact for tone.
Naked, bleeding, cursing,
Verbal in all command,
Being beaten by all who know her,
Is she who dies by hand.
Cold, fleeting, bursting
Bones of golden old,
Lay broken in her body,
From injuries untold.
Whining, crying, weeping,
She goes along and screams,
Where are those who help her?
Were they only dreams?
Piercing is the silence,
From this old women’s grave,
She didn’t have time enough,
She couldn’t even pray.