Sing, Clay Pigeon Sing, clay pigeon, of postmortem bars Where the - TopicsExpress



          

Sing, Clay Pigeon Sing, clay pigeon, of postmortem bars Where the dead stink every stool And lock your eyes on their faces Covered with the ashes of dreams. What is the public face of your sorrow? I cannot compare sorrows Or match regrets. I will do what I can to forget. I have packed the dead like stones, Racks of rock buckling my back, But no longer. I will not barter with that grief. Sing, high-flying bird, of their graves And deaths you will not die. Sing about the cringing terror of life Clinched in their shaking fists That cannot budge or bruise The strength of what I know. I will do what I can before I go.
Posted on: Fri, 09 Aug 2013 19:59:21 +0000

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