By: Harry Flanagan
Date: Thursday, February 25, 2010 at 6:40pm
The shutter shuts, so let me lose or let me rust.
I am a fiend, a thing, or even just a fling to your lust.
My heart flutters and shatters but in the end does it matter?
Because if you don't care then what's there to share?
My words will escape through the air and vanish and become clear.
This happens when I seem to be the only one who cares...
What do I do? Who do I trust? This hope is unjust...
What do you do? Who do you trust? Does it feel unjust?
What do we do! Who do we trust! We feel this to be unjust!
The words I speak will they ever seep through the crease...
Breaking the fold that we have prone and hide for weeks...
Do you seek the weak or a meaningful moment of peace?
The truth seems to be bleak and yet answers are sheathed.
I only wish to see that in which is truth within me!
Not the illusive tragedies or false infinite undiscoveries!
What do I do? Who do I trust? This hope is unjust...
What do you do? Who do you trust? Does it feel unjust?
What do we do! Who do we trust! We feel this to be unjust!
Commerce and fold to a heavens untold soul.
A deluded rose and a depleting mind,
Signs of a evoked time of a prayer untied.
We seek a cycle unknowingly
That repeats sorrow to a hollow selfish zero.
A mind for itself will never spread wings...
Until it risks itself for a greater means...
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