Speak justice. Bend the light of horror, anguish. Ingest it, cry out. This is barrenness. Empty and cold, it should move us to heartache.
Fearing all, the sunrise of love is too sinister to smile upon us.
They walk on our floors of ruin, kneel upon our miserable hearts and sleep confined to our bitterness. If we, the loveless, barren and cruel, shackle and cage men’s hearts, why then are we not happy?
© 2010 by mark prime
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