Trudge up the flowered drive at six,
To a house - three storey - framed by
Summer-jaundiced eve sky. Turn the
Key in the lock and set the briefcase
Down with a smooth, contented sigh.

Something catches: a nick that unravels
The frayed sleeve of time. Look up at
The blue face of your first-born, cyan-lipped,
Your scarf about his neck. And yet, he
Seems the most serene he’d ever been.

Switch view, rub the coarse scarf
Against cheek. Ponder how you’d feel.
It’s a lame duck, sure, but motives are
Pure. Suffer well, kid, so others don’t.
Pour yourself a quick glass. Daddy’s coming.

"You can never quarantine the past."
Last edited by broken_bottles at Sep 24, 2007,
damn. thats some powerful stuff you got. the second verse is the best to me.
is this a poem or a song? becuase if its a poem i think perfect, but a song would prob do better with a chorus.

mind looking at mine? click on "Stone"
i need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah.