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no one knows?

By Wil C. Fry, Aug. 3, 1997

Copyright © 1997 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.


Skies below as I float there outside of everything
Where are the kittens that used to play and sing?
I forget to breathe to think to see you at all
Looking inside again, the victim of it all
Blinking, squinting, dilating, closing my eyes
Deep inside, past the living corpse, an infant cries
No one knows why

Empty eyes looking over folded hands
Sinking in the shifting sands
Staring, wincing, pacing, waiting for the end
Laboring lungs lick up the beautiful wind
Ignoring the purity of your love so fair
Running callused hands through thinning hair
No one knows where

Hearing the music, and weaving, dancing, sinking
Feeling the rhythm, moving, and wond’ring, thinking
Do you know me, on my heartbreak now choking?
Weary, weak, broken; my wounds are smoking
Dimly we wonder and question where you are now
Sensing the shame, guilt I still take the bow
No one knows how

Waves crash upon the hardened souls in prison
Flames fall from the Hell that is now risen
Inside me, inside you, there is so much confusion
Defenders vainly fight off the bloody intrusion
They fall, they lie in the pools of truth wearing thin
Defining, remembering, questioning all the sin
No one knows when

Is there an end?
No one knows.

No one knows?



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