Spin in your grave,

My god,

Oh, spin there where the moon does not shine!


Can’t you see the light seeping deep into your hollow home?

Yet you sit there and ponder how the dirt had once made up your body,


Because oh how the lack of oxygen makes us all feel whole.


Against the wrath of a god,

My god,

Comes again the ax of the wind into a tree made up of your once dried blood and food,

And it toppled onto your body at the age of three,

(What else was I meant to do?)



My god,

Don’t dream again my dear step but into a face first position before the relaying of the god,

My god,

Don’t dream again,

For the darkness is too persuasive.


(The God speaks!)

Oh but how it isn’t so easy for a man like me how I stand in sooted soil and bury my toes deep,



Deeper than the oceans in a world made up of all but a single drop of what was once water!



(Ah but you see?)

The god,

My god,

How you look towards me now and laugh at my decisions and spout out how they are



Of course, they are

Come on now,

Walk with me and let me show you again the showers of an ocean and the waters of the rivers that once cut through my skin and made rivers of our blood!



Stand up and continue to limp down a path YOU chose,

For it doesn’t bleed you dry the least


Who can truly know?


The world shifts in a way that makes unparalleled the steel and how it bends in glory of



Of course,

For again you can look towards an open sea and watch the gallantly striding horses atop backs of men!

But remember,

The steps you take are but a remembrance of what you truly wanted


(Was it not?)

Truth be to God and joy when the blood of your heart may create a river by which to follow,

And end up in hell,

Or heaven,

You decide,




Withered Leaves ►


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