two on this rock: a target and an arrogant one
the reason that I crow, for some reason
I may never know
these are the faults of the hand:
an imperfect arrow
yet these are the bones I command
ever I see them, on and on
you ignored me like when we were boys
the rules of survival: only the arrogant face their prey
these are the wounds of my youth,
ones that I still still feel:
Isolation
we only played your rules
these are the faults of the hand:
an imperfect arrow:
the pencil you dug in my back
up to the letters
maybe when you’ve done
burning all your bridges
you’ll burn for me
and maybe when you’ve done
spent all your hand
you’ll reach for me
this is my song to the earth
I’ll sing it loud and clear
how does one cut through the air:
one disappears

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