Sandstorm
by Jersey D GibsonSorry, wasn't expecting you today,
listless and unwanted, you are.
Hateful and hate-filled memories,
severely a lack of compassion.
Times drains, is whisked away,
slowly sinking through the bottom.
Piles upon piles of things left unsaid,
buried beneath is a broken heart.
Each grain a tale, each speck a tear,
each wind howl a soul that won't be going home.
Sun rises on plains made of dust,
dried up all of our good intentions.
Maybe, one day we'll learn to forgive each other;
perhaps one day we will have learned as well.
Sorry excuses have run out so long ago,
why am I here, after all?
Viceroy or villain, I can't decide,
am I ushering change or death?
Live in squaller, the dirt, the trash,
the wreckage of our lives.
Maybe things will change? Maybe;
not when we don't change the plan.
Armed with a hammer, everything's a nail,
I'll keep bashing until all is broken.
Today was different, today was unusual,
today I decided I didn't care anymore.
The war machine has gotten sick of it all,
sick of its own lies and bullshit.
Maybe, one day we'll grow tired of this,
perhaps the debt will consume us all.
Pitiful practices have left us haunted,
can I ever leave here, my mind?
02/20/2008