Monday, September 21, 2009

Gravity - 3/30/05

Pouring dirt on my shallow grave,
It is not pity or dying I crave.
Smelling flowers as dead as me,
Is not my perfect idea of peace.
There needs to be a way to fly,
And avoid your perfect blue sky.
I don't know what holds me here.
The earth, or those I hold dear.
Who is my enemy?
You or gravity?

Burning the remnants of my body,
Reminds me of what I'll never be.
Composing my epitaph years early,
Isn't the future I lived to see.
There needs to be a way to swim,
Above your deepest gleaming ocean.
I know not who can't let me leave,
Those I love, or the air I breathe.
Who is my enemy?
You or gravity?

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