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by Phil Walling


Who knows of loves that pass me by
Without caress or even sigh
Who cares about emotion
Of a child in confusion?
The headline lies wasted, on the front page of a newspaper
Statistics oil confession - I confess, I confess
To the media is civil disobedience
Will you complain, well?

Evidence - In the mortal toil of strife
Coincidence - Falling from ashes of life
Innocence - In mire of mud entrenched
Circumstance - Fridgid waters distance

Who cares of death, in the night
A final breath, a loss of sight
Dismiss my ignorance, with a pat on the back
The kettle screams a piercing cry
Morning whispers to my eyes
With sun and fog and greyish skies
Will you complain, well?

The love I feel is not complete
Lost in puzzles at my feet
Late night television
Black and white prison
Thoughts explode in sheer frustration
Then comes sleep, nice and quick
Will you complain, well?


Author's Note: Peace

Posted on 01/13/2005
Copyright © 2020 Phil Walling

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