This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO


Our empathy now sits
like the dew on a rose.
Slumped of a coursing rage
and trembling in grief
we pawn our conscience for coal.

The spirit's executioner
came `round in our gloom.
Before eternal slumber
we need wet our lips
upon the dawn...

Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman

The Peace Train

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