• Silent Witness

    by  • August 28, 2013 • * Safe for Work *, Waxing Poetic • 0 Comments

    Words are my witnesses;
    They see every shade in which I walk.
    Through rays of light
    or shards of darkness,
    My journey does not go unseen.
    Nothing they long to testify
    will ever be heard.
    You were my hope
    when life was bleeding
    on the ground. Absorbed
    by concrete, bystanders never
    heard a sound.
    Is this not murder?
    Are not your hands dripping red?
    Trying to pump harder,
    my weary heart is giving out.
    Trying to pump harder…
    fatigue begins to take its toll.
    Does it all matter? Does all life
    truly end in red?
    Does anything matter
    when we all end up dead?
    Lost in the vacancy
    of what my mind can’t process.
    These thoughts are racing through
    and crashing through
    bullet-proof windows and hardly left
    unscathed. Now torn and tattered
    is nothing left of me?
    Now torn and tattered…
    does any value still exist?

    Now beaten and empty,
    What reason remains
    to still persist?

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