Thursday, March 24, 2011

Toot Your Horn




A trauma related thought.
A body found in pain.
A mind reeling in torture,
a soul without a chance.

A way to start a dance,
a direction of a trance,
twirling inside lurid tales,
of retching wicked scenes.

I do not see the meanness,
I can not tell the smell,
all I know, is what I tow.
It weighs me with the dough.

Never does pain rise,
it hurts me side by side.
Lost within the dreaded sin,
there seems to be no win.

Dropping like a sail,
increase the speeding rail,
toot your horn and don't adorn.
I'll be right by your side.

K.A.P.
6/23/2009

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