Shave thought from that moot point
Like blood from your poisonous stone
Kiss the boy that fucked up your nightmare once
Lick the memory like a celebration
It is subversive heat that kindles now
The kind that wanders inside the mind
Some children still smile

Fit yourself tight inside a wicked mood
Fool the purpose when you shake that way
Churn the doubt in affirmation
Pinch the flesh until the boiling pot is empty
A void considers itself complete
The morning is a witness
Some children still cry

Cover the world in a foil mattress
Sink ships with the bottom of your angry sea
Push the hard on towards the whimpers
Paper thin motives skewer the trust
Collide a world that eats imps
Faith is a function of this grotesque
Some children still hurt

Baste a willing arm in sulfur
Conjure the doldrums of a beating heart
A folding wish to hide monsters
Singing songs in a closet
Bodies seem semantic in a nightmare
The departure of black birds
Some children still scream

Futures are taught and blind
Scars might heal inside a younger mind
Fake people sometimes melt in sunlight
Sanguine and sweet the moist rapture
Flip a posture much broader
A sharp object pushed at you
Some children still hide

This world is a construct of fear
See a time in one moment of darkness
Alone with the beat of a heart
Is love a far off world in the light?
A place of sanctuary for a soul?
This reconciling voice inside
Some children still live.

© 2005
Christopher E. Vaughn

if you’ve lived through this pain you CAN come out of it alive…


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