Ode to Stuff, a Collector tale By Samuel Andrew Romo What will they think? When there’s a new face? A Sight unwise They been shunned to the shelves A slight place of night Not from lack of love But for love they’re unseen in reality. Kept safe, yet away Where they can be remember and Covered In dust to inflict the most pain -As they have been betrayed All for love and protection among a secret keep Trying to escape along the corridors and enclose walls in a tragic hour Be silent; be quiet, into the secure night Running from an uncharted idol being -As guest are never suppose to leave Seeking failure and maturity, Out if misery For here There will be no broken stone slab Upon which the crying Angels sits And Torn wings are held so dear And rotting last words are etch, before death We can only withhold breaths Shall there be rest?
Posted on: Mon, 15 Jul 2013 04:52:41 +0000
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