Still Don't Know
Still don't know
what I'm going to
after hardships fade
more on the horizon, too
Always beckoning with crooked fingers
bent backs, slightly subtle
with a haggard face sporting
4 days of stubble
Fallen into
this sort of routine
but the ends never quite meet
so what does this mean?
These vagabond streets
filled with marching feet
supposedly going off to war
or to settle scores
Prostituting oneself
like a wayward whore
one you would never want to know
behind closed doors
Still don't know
what will ever appear
after the grieving fades
and the hairs turn gray
Now the bullying kids
have wives and offspring
of their very own
this razor blade smile,
always and forever, alone...
mathiasthom
written 11/20/11
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