Our Voices.

Gone, but not,

Like unforgiven sin,

Blood on tired wheels.

Gotta cut myself out

Of this too-tight skin.

 

Lose the shield,

Leave stagnant field;

Learn a different way

To play the world.

 

Singing at festivals –

Of fear, fire, phantoms

And failures –

Our voices shall be

Our swords.

 

10/5/2012

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