I'm so afriad, that some day I'll wake...
Cogito Ergo Sum
O’ cometh be static upon wounded words I spill
O’ cometh to be me, stolen verbs un pronounced
Thou calls on spear hit worlds
Stars, they spell out into circles
Like poison I fill in when well
O’ don’t be low
Taketh what I show
Or let fall that face I call
M’curse the stain of luck
Strained to the hindered sooth
O’ let me touch thee where thou bruise
I’ll end this, except if thou choose
Perfect like Golgotha, only made to fade
Even in Philomel’s song, he’d date their wrongs
So tend these words that have a sudden grasp
Break this curse, incessant law
Hold this hand, and its inner birth
O’ gown these thoughts, minds never stop
O’ break thine ice, tainted snow, entice
O’ raise me in thine arms again, made to high
Passion of life, made to drown... 'Cogito Ergo Sum' Copyright © David Scheier
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