Death has come,
And the reaper has collected those close
So, I searched security in love
Love has held me while looking in another mans eyes
Certainly my flesh will back me up
My own body turns at me in the mirror,
To mock my future plans
My eyes test me constantly,
As sleep denies me the next days peace
I stood my ground on every confrontation
Yet, then the so called good earth seduced my garden,
To turn against my hand and heart
It is so unbecoming of nature,
To heartlessly abandon those at her breast
When even the dust spits in your face,
Where do you go from here?
You look in your hand,
As you gaze at the proverbial
Short end of straw
Only a fool plants a straw!
Perhaps I should gather them,
Into an object of fear,
Not to the birds,
But to those that think their endeavors in hard work,
Will be accepted by the selfish dirt!
After all, why trust the very dirt that holds our love ones,
The dust that mocks us and opens its rapacious mouth for me?
In a field I will place him,
The birds know better,
The beast of the field scratch themselves against his wooden bones
Yet the farmer should take note,
He was there for a reason,
The lifeless cannot grant you security
He is placed there to tell you that,
The cards are stacked against you,
And the last straw tells you that,
It is a game,
Yes, nature’s game, and you are the loser of the day
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