Winds of truth blow past
A beautiful collection.
Fall leaves laying gently on a path
Each saying something different
Yet the forgiving ground left my feet
Aching from the walk.
Now I cannot find my anger;
Thinking I left it right here on the bend
But it is nowhere to be found.
Asked him twice if he liked the idea
Of dying drunk and alone in his truck.
No words came out of his mouth this day
Nothing but the stench of cheap beer
Gently floating around the cab.
Misused and misunderstood were my backbone
The one I used to cast everyone aside
As I saw fit.
Evil may have some kind of persistence
But it lacks the patience and refinement