(no subject)
Borders are scratched across the hearts of men
By strangers with a calm, judicial pen,
And when the borders bleed we watch with dread
The lines of ink across the map turn red.
-Marya Mannes, Subverse: Rhymes for Our Times, 1959
I'm tired. Mentally, physically... mentally. Ungh. Everything is so grey in this pseudo-Siberia.
By strangers with a calm, judicial pen,
And when the borders bleed we watch with dread
The lines of ink across the map turn red.
-Marya Mannes, Subverse: Rhymes for Our Times, 1959
I'm tired. Mentally, physically... mentally. Ungh. Everything is so grey in this pseudo-Siberia.