by Phil Walling
In a place of deep cascade
Lies the pleasure of the pain
Where sparrows float in misty skies
And hurt lingers in my brain.
And while some peace of death is near
A voice is heard, rough and queer -
This voice responds to my inner screams.
And those in the asylum, long to reach out
Save your pity for my bones have melted.
All that is left is tissue, bound by skin -
A circle of meat comes ever closer
And strangles my life source from within.
Time tells who breathes and who is dead.
Tissues sear the air with staleness
This asylum lies in the back of my head.
Author's Note: A HS Poem re-edited in the 21st Century....Peace
Posted on 01/23/2005
Copyright © 2020 Phil Walling