the hill and they cannot go back.
Hating every wrinkle they attract.
To find themselves so lost in looking back.
Wondering where youth had gone.
Revamping all the old-time songs.
Pushing to engourge upon
an energy no longer theirs.
Engaging pairs evolved in apathy.
Never quite believing that great feeling
of their very own despair.
Through sick and twisted revolutions.
Cycling, their sickness spiraling.
Through ages ground into antipathy.
Absorbing ancient curses to defy
the lies and alibis they chose to live.
To seek rebirth in babe newborn.
Dissolving yet another form
into their egoistic vanity.
Clinging to the gross society.
The second split.
Sinking into their insanity...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .