I forgot to remember
You stole me a buy
To tell you the truth
They sold you a lie
I’m eighty-years young
Not a fool goes gray
I see black on white
Your night is my day
Your soul is imprisoned
You don’t think for yourself
Cause you’re wearing a leash
With your brain on the shelf
When you chose to borrow
Be the victim of a lender
Why should it surprise you
The Receiver is the Sender
Of every transgression
Blamed on the other side
While you stand on your hill
You’re as low as your pride
If you think I’m inverting
The surreal-estate story
Tell me where in the cemetery
Are the riches and glory?
Headstones mark the same
You can’t revoke what you said
While alive in your death
Why’d you consider me dead?
Now I’m alone but for God
No more lonely than before
Stuck in this wheelchair
Watching the door.
Ciera S. Louise c. July 07, 2005