We find it strange
How the tear falls
A minute too late
After the flood has begun.
Sad, little, inquisitive minds,
Wouldn’t you like to know
Where the real danger lies?
A black, rotten heart
Falls to pieces in its own decay
And the remnants are broken down
To dirt on the ground.
It goes to show
What all our pride stands for
When the sand is washed
Down some undiscovered river
To the ocean’s forgotten depths.
Then it is too late,
Too deep, to reach far enough
Down into the damp, desolate hell
We create for ourselves.
Only then too late
Were our eyes truly opened,
Only to be blinded
By the fog of our sins
And the heavy blackness
Of our impurities.
This is the only truth
We succumb to.
–written in 1999
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