Thursday, July 12, 2007

"The Phantom Woman of the South"

My mask hides my face;
It cloaks my mind well;
Nobody can see my place in hell;
I was there but fled and am gone;
Down that old railroad track;
I'll never let my heart feel defeat;
I'm gone and I'll never look back;
People of flesh are like chapters in a book;
I observed the twisting of their minds;
Down in the delerium of a vortex in motion;
On a road that constantly winds;
The drama unfolds in a never ending story;
Where words begin sounding the same;
Manipulation if you let it in your soul;
In someone else's mind like a game;
What is trust but an image on a wall;
In likeness to an old castle painting;
A frontal lobe that encircles a globe;
Then comes a suggestion of the fear and the fainting;
Words that have fallen upon deaf ears and minds;
Like an animal I am cornered in a trap;
Their image in an eye makes you want to die;
Upon a windowsill comes a faint rap;
At an unrelenting pace-what they throw up in your face;
A slap is sent towards the mask;
That is the end result of their intended task;
Like a clay toy if you let them in;
They fondle your anatomy and try to make you part of their sin;
On the friendly face is the sign of disgrace;
I am are thrown to the side to drown in the tide;
As they move on to their next victim upon the wind;
To tell a story of how they sinned;
It is a story told many times;
Of envisioned crimes;
In the background is the cuckold's laugh;
And you are but a mark upon the graph;
The winds blow in many directions;javascript:void(0)
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But you can be sure to avoid their path;
In the light of their engulfing and sickening rath;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

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