Not How It Goes

October 21, 2010
I see the storms a brewing
I see the clouds grow darker
With faces in the sky
As the standoff nears my abode

Tripping through the anger
With tendrils grasping at my step
I dance around the poisoned thorns
And fall into the brambles

Nicked and scratched
I stumble on
Through tainted smog and razor hail
To hide from the raging storm

But they take shape
And frightening form
Of my friends
Newly contorted

Were the skys ever so clear
Then where I lay now?
Bloodied by ripping wind and flaring lightning
Passed out in the center of the arena

Ignored by every side above
The tattered shambles of my body fade
But I still stand and take all the hits
So neither side need feel this pain





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback