Friday, May 22, 2009

Scathing Pains

To whom do I owe this debt of love
To what I owe from far above
Of where we climb to be withheld
And honor be listed as we are felled
Rejoice he says as we are beaten
Our last meal yet to be eaten
I see my path a darkened hall
Windowed cave received by all
To strap into my seat of shock
And hear the ominous turn of the lock
A call to beg for someone's mercy
No luck to find here in New Jersey
But hear me when it comes to pass
I went with valor; I went with class.

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