Reflections
by
William Andrews
published by
William Andrews on smashwords
Reflections
copyright 2011 by William Andrews
all rights reserved without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this publication may be reproduced stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means [electronic mechanical photocopying recording or otherwise ] without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book
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It is us who bleeds
the little ones
in a country
we have never seen
where our pious words
travel a line
of skeletal women
who wait for the pain
of lonely graves
When reality’s mask
starts to decay
do you feel like a stranger
in a body
whose tune you play
Does the silence speak louder
then the words you describe
to the mirror of shadows
were you try to hide
Is it not a shame
that an honest man’s status
is reduced
to the level
of rats
in a bin
It is
to the abyss
of whispers
were your shadow
plays
when you sleep
Is it the decisions
on your visions
that you see
every day
that will course
your convictions
to rage
or decay
Is it
someone else’s words
you taste
when you speak
Is it only
when a twisted sea of bones
in decaying concrete jungles
appear
on a Barron horizon
glowing green
unnatural in the dark
do you see
Not only
do people pass on bills
to their children
they pass on pain
and early graves
for the children
they create
Will it be
the watcher within
that will remember
your sins
against
what should have been
It is
only when your despair
becomes aware
of the things
you knew
was there
do you start to understand
damaged children
means
Barron lands
What you sow
you shall not reap
only your children