But a Price to Pay

August 30, 2009
Trembling; still as the cloud dropping,
Waterfalls drench the thoughts of minds wandering,
Hidden by valleys,
Open to the mountain that reaches for the sky,
The disgruntled heap holds his shape,
Weeping his tears to fertilize,
The dreams of all beneath,
To plant all he once believed in and to,
Love himself,
Once again he repeats,
"Fail me now legs do,
As I cry to what I used,
What I used to use,
And everything I lost,"
Freedom is but a price to pay,
For getting away with murder.
(Of all those less prominent.)





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