Saturday, 27 September 2014

Stained Sparks

The woods are wet
with the piss of revolution
everyone lost in their
anger lead mazes,
only see the dark in this
raging fire.

Shall I leave this world
for another
or
stay put my friend?

I run and trip.

'Help' they yell
and I see a spark
in the drenched woods;
soon they burn
in bloodied innocence.

But,
there is a man I see
the man with the spark
whose life's stained
with a million others
and I know
you know

it's me.

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