I’ve seen HER coming, strung from this beam,
Humming in HER winter stumbling and hung out of reach,
The perfect life is a dream?
I guess it means the world’s at peace when we sleep.
Do you believe? Why? HER eyes were built to deceive,
instead of building hope SHE blew through like the breeze.
Twice now I passed HER courting the streets on HER knees,
thought I was humbled to find home, alone on my feet.
Nice to meet the daylight bright in defeat,
like the silence engulfed me breathing life in HIS screams,
breeding pride, where HE once tried to teach me to see.
My ink ran dry and HE taught my pen how to sail,
and then HE sold it to me, like there was weight in HIS tale,
Waiting for the receipt as HE painted HER face pale
HE places a tag on HER grave like the truth’s in retail
but it’s human nature that dictates,
my faith is for sale.
© Myles Dacus 2013
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