There were too many close calls,
To sacrifice to fall,
To compare the events done,
The sins of a unknown sun.
We must go home,
And face the problems gone,
This is not retribution,
This is not to atone wrong.
I offered my hand in help,
To feel the knife in my back,
I bled out right there,
My blood was black.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment