The darkest days sometime start with a glorious morning,
I watched the sun rise from Ra's arm in Hamunaputra.
I was standing infront of a lake
The black water reflected the curled fangs of the sun in the murk,
With my finger I sent an angry ripple towards it,
And looked around me,
Locked up,
Lonely,
Solitary,
Hurt,
Murderous.
Numb,
Humiliated.
I felt like Jesus on the cross,
as faces floated around me
laughing at my hurt, my bleeding limbs
my weak limbs, my failing limbs.
My head hurt from last night's torture,
My stomach ached from hunger
And my shoulders drooped from overwork
My eyes were diamondlike from the cold and the wind.
If this weren't the end then I didn't know what was,
I have lost everything,
I had given half of it away long back in a bequest of the heart
And now half of it lies torn and tattered.
I am a dead man,
writing a dead song.
TU PLATAFORMA DE SOLUCIONES
11 years ago