Millions of little shards,
Scattered among the sand,
Drifting with dirt,
Blown away on the wind,
Washed away with the tides.
All the little pieces -
That use to fit together,
All the little pieces -
No longer matching,
All the little pieces -
All that is left.
Gone is the heart,
Gone is the mind,
Gone is the soul,
Gone, gone, gone.
Pink shredded ribbons hang,
Blood rivers flowing
From the emptiness,
The gaping hole.
Paleness spreading,
Shadows forming,
Light leaving,
Night consuming.
Editorial Note:
I am not a very intentional writer. No matter how much of a plan I may have before I sit down to write, I very rarely seem able to finish ...
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I would travel the Panamerican Highway. It traverses two continents from Alaska to Argentina. It is almost 30,000 miles through 14 differ... -
Well, this work was not at all what I was expecting or hoping for. What was I expecting/hoping for? More of a conceptual methodology o...
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