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Viesta 
1:34am, November 13, 2009
No sticks or stones to break these bones~
What of truth, what of lies.
you say you know,
as my head you hold,
these eyes you dry.
Your child's truth is not for me,
not here on the shore of eternity.
For soon the tide of time will rise,
drown this life, dull these eyes,
drag me from this sunny shore,
turn me out to nevermore.
You poke and prod with caring lies,
with love and patience help me die.
You sound so noble in this fray,
as God-fearing judgments guide your way.
All your words, your loving disguise
cannot soothe me or dry my eyes.
For you don't lie here on this bed,
know nothing of my feelings dead.
Leave this cross -- it's mine to bear,
show me naught how you care.
Don't you judge or pity me,
with lessons learned on your mother�s knee.
For I am not a soul to save,
just a man lacking praise.
Offer me nothing but honest fear,
that's all I need so bend an ear.
We are the same you and me,
both face the same finality.
You say you know right from wrong,
I find no depth in your parrot's song.
Dig inside where it�s not so clear,
where right and wrong are lost to fear.
Clear your head, unshield your eyes,
I invite you in to where I die.
catch a glimpse of what's in store.
Lie by me at death's dark door.
Visit this world, this trough of pain.
Leave your judgments,
where life's a game.
Live in dirt and feed the flies.
Then tell me
you know truth from lies!
Viesta Morrison
