Saturday, 14 April 2012

Closer, I Can Smell

All that glistens isn't gold,
Came those snowflake eyes,
And the look primed to go;
Don't guild your cottage,
Paint it with lies.

With freedom comes responsibility,
Understand my love;
Make it known, X, Y, Z;
Those underneath,
Those above.

People speak such a lovely shade,
Ride white horses,
And top their towers with a balustrade;
And a net
For the day they fall down.

I see past your words,
Like a deer through the trees;
I don't pigeon-chest this life
Or build myself up,
Because we start and end on our knees.

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