Sunday, July 14, 2013

the center

i have drawn out the outlines
but i can't fill in the blanks
the contents spill to the outside
there's no more blood in the bank
i have my conscience to thank

there's an endless canvas of earth
a whitened slate wiped clean
it's no more tainted than birth
yet it won't glisten or gleam
i'm not as pure as i seem

the color of my pallid skin
is colorless
the content of my weary head
is emptiness
but my heart keeps pressing on
long after feeling is gone
my heart keeps pressing on
the rest of me's withdrawn

- afm

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