The Book of Andrew

by Aaron Blair

The body doesn't know, but the body has sinned.
It has longed for another life, any other life but the one
that has it pinned down, throbbing jugular waiting for biting teeth.
To hope is to sin against god, the blasphemy of assuming
that he doesn't really want you to suffer, as though the pain
isn't what seals your soul, reforges you into a more effective weapon
against the dark that is the inevitable path of man.
Only the pain will exist, a tiny pinpoint of light, to remind you
that you are still alive and that you have to keep moving.


Posted on 12/05/2010
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 12/05/10 at 02:46 PM

Beautifully stated especially in that last stanza.

Posted by Ava Blu on 03/19/11 at 02:29 PM

love this. that's really all i can say.

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