under the safest of skies,
forever seems far too long
I’ll carry on strong,
take it on the chin
I’m bruised, beaten
by those of whom I’m hunting,
my angle is precise,
each cast
within
an inch
of their life
this pursuit has kept me
confined, a soft, silent
antidote, to protect
my fragile mind,
I can’t promise much,
to those
of whom
I seek
“I’ll guard your alter
and the water in which
you sleep”
I’ll continue to pine
and wait for a sign,
from those
who lurk beneath
my angle is precise,
each cast
within
an inch
of my life
far away
from the synthetic world
no truer words been spoken,
time will eventually heal
those of us who have broken,
forever seems far too long,
my angle is precise,
each cast
will set us free
from the constraints
within our life
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