wasted words of prayer
in the endless days
filled with finite prayers
the sun never touched the skin
feet never walked the ways
all is, but within
in the shortest nights
the constant fights
where dreams tend to die
never in the lights
in the shadow of the lie
fearfull moments of rain
hiding under the leaves of pain
desire of the sane
when time comes again
and it works with the brain
new to the light
new to the thought
but scars of old
a battle that forgot
to kill the memory sold
craving for the love
carving the cave of enough
drowning the lust for life
erasing the memory
like the abuse of the sharp end of a knife
you always remember
always see what it was
eventhough polished and tender
a blunt knife still resembles
the cuts it made
sui, man, 47 jaar
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