"She's in love, and the world gets blurry
She makes mistakes, and she's in no hurry to grow up
'Cause grownups, they don't understand her
Well it's a big, big world out there, but she's not scared...
She finds hope in the strangest places
She reads her books, and she knows the faces
Of everyone that ever said she's alone
She knows every word to the saddest songs
And she sings along, though her friends all tell her
That she can't sing...
She's eighteen, much too young
To know what a kiss like that would mean
But her lips, they were no stranger to the touch
And she likes it way too much."
--Mayday Parade, So Far Away

Monday, June 11, 2007

I'm a poet... And yes, I'm aware of it.

For the entertainment and bafflement of my [3] readers, I post a poem. Copyright 2007 to KEB, of course [and I'm damn serious].


Argentum

Whilst evils trample 'round the earth tonight
And sorrow great and vast leaves no sound way
To dream or hope upon escape or flight
The angels fight the night, restoring day

The eldest twists and turns the closing heat
The second minds the minds of those who think
The harmony of death the fourth one beats
The third, a sieve, for feeling past the brink

From death these heav'nly hosts protect the life
From life these selfless guards prevent the dead
Sweet breath, a whisper faintly breaks through strife
And breathes the words to patch the path ahead

Though often lost and baffled by their might
The angels guard your sound, your sight, your night.


Arty, Thena [Eddie], Seph, and Tia: Est deus in nobis.

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