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By Rhetoric Date: 2001 Sep 25 Comment on this Work [[2001.09.25.15.47.6406]] |
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Tell it like it is, twisted truths and all. You ramble with moth-mouthed intensity; I can't comprehend your siren screams. That squeaky-clean image in the mirror you seek, it is me. What would you do to rise up on pedestals? This week you say the right words, next week the past is too near. Distant sounds bounce off memory walls. Our education was built day by day. We never know when our fancies will be en vogue. She was our savior, he the torment and odium. Each year, three children repent the sins of our father. When will my rosary make reparation? |