Maybe it’s the cold, the reasons falter and curl, under this state. but we won’t last long in the open. our mouths taught to say the words and to say them right. We begin to think not only for this cause but for ourselves. selfish, cold, cruel words force themselves past the belief that business and politics come cheap. It’s like myself doesn’t know me.
Denial, betrayal, boredom, money. We want and want and want, until we get. We lose, we win, we have already come to this conclusion. Time shifts. This path is, more so, waving hands, slow this process down. Construction, followed by destruction, followed by reconstruction, but everyday, everybody thinks the same. But its there, we here it, we feel it, it seeps into every crack and crevice that it comes upon. like a light out side hospital doors. Like scars on veterans of war. Bright patterns on paper outweigh and overwhelm the slightest chance, and a half smiling king. Printed in countless languages “for our sake” he declares. Befriend him, and see how he leads.
This room begins to turn as a young boy staring down at death. point blank. barely audible murmurs. an apology. his hand tied, he asks the simple questions. we reply “we simply take what is ours” but our faces shine as he mutters a low prayer. open England’s eyes. for the very last time.
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