Ones

Shut my hurt, open my jerk,

slight of hand, of this I burp.

Taste of yuck, in gross berserk!

Mouth full of words, always coming.

Close my terror, close my rare.

Sit down upon this easy chair.

I need no grace I have taste,

it's all so much disgrace of me.

Shame I feel

Shame I kneel

Shame I heal

None of teal

Crying eyes, crying sun

Moon disguise, solar run

Live in distant fear of nighs

Help me now I've got no thighs.

Royal blue, ringing ears

Beaten, threw, of tempted years

Speak of this and you will tear

End is on and in top shear.

Hold my hand, I'm often near

My soul and heart are in arrears

Feet are torn, body cheers

The ones who did are not here.

K.A.P.

5/16/2009