Feb 11, 2003 20:52
Words are spoken once and thrice
no impact or fury implied
the same old woes that plagued before
knocking evermore
Little matters in the room of grays
silly heads on linen graves
the chittering in distants ears
faded to static
remembered pain same old tune
the same steps turning
the same chords sharply sweet
caling to the devils that lie beneath
poetry