The happy faces speak while hiding
their tongues, spotted
like the blue and purple-inflicted
hands that are decaying.
And as valleys stretch across
these poked and prodded hands,
they hold on to mine, warning me
to turn a deaf ear to those
happy faces.
I never knew my hands could be colder
than the dying.
Feet of Clay
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- Posts: 16
- Joined: May 10th, 2010, 3:30 pm
- Location: Jacksonville, FL
- Contact:
Feet of Clay
Rebecca D. Wilson
"And when we return
our voices will be heard,
because we are brave enough to sing
and legends' past will be
smiling."
"And when we return
our voices will be heard,
because we are brave enough to sing
and legends' past will be
smiling."
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