graveyards full
of executed
the world has
its ways of
gentle elimination;
cry a tear or
maybe three,
maybe half
a hundred thousands
when they trace
it back to me,
and i stand by,
cold, invisible;
or damn me
for evermore;
the ocean doesn’t
feel the rain;
a weary and
disdainful chain
of restless,
diplomatic pain;
occasional heartbreaks
remain of the
myriads of cracks
that spidered
stealthy over
the looking glass;
humanity was
never reflective

T. E. Pyrus


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s