Without a Mask

November 16, 2008
Drifting with heavy silence
My mouth feels numb
My head is stuffed

Making little sense of what is being said
Keeping little passion alive
I want to lay down, to sleep under your trees

To feel your heart beat
That’s what we all yearn for
But I only drift and dream of when things were healthy

I wasn’t alive then when mother earth was hole,
I’m not alive now
Let the vultures follow us

Let them pick at us
Let them rise with their regal feathers of red, blue and green
Make them feed from our mistakes

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