I know why the icy river flows so fast this time of year,
And I know why the words I whisper fall upon deaf ears.
The dark was heavy on my breast-a weight of lead shaped
perfectly
to stay the movement of my chest and hold me in a broken
dream.
I know why it’s easier to sleep and dream, than wake;
to sleep and dream’s a lawless reality I can make.
No comments:
Post a Comment