Sans Life

January 8, 2008
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Enter these black iron gates
In these hallways, life weeps like a wallowing tree
Oppression trickles into the veins of the walking
Light dies, giving up its breath to what is called fate
Blind eyes seek blind hope where there is no longer truth
Voice lies dormant in the hallow niche of the uniform skeletons
Order is everything but a choice, though it is coined as free will
Their heart cries for a savior but their minds see nothing but what is
Every step echoes lifeless. Empty. Dead.
Surrounding wind is as cold as their touch, their filmy gaze, their souls
An intake of air binds the spirit stiff and surrenders the recollection of joy
Light dims, diminishes, fades
Conscience weakens with every casting breeze
Gasp for breath
Grasp for hope
Grapple for life
As these black iron gates swing close
There is no turning back





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