Over
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.
Revenge,
requital.
Sinking
into their insanity...
? Michaelette ?
7/12/2005
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette
L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take
me home . . .