Cold Front Thick Skin
Beneath this thick perspiring skin there is a pulse that
beats through my heart.
For the weak, for the weary, and for the heartless
And despite the anger that grows and hatred I so easily
show.
There is a part of me that breathes life into the idea
that everyone has a piece of love that lives inside of
them.
A figure starved, begging to be fed.
A figure too often left for dead.
We live our days with instinct as guidance.
A presiding aspect that stirs inside of us.
We put to shame the gift of our minds as our hearts
decline.
Open your eyes to f..cking see, were the same from you to
me.
A human being with a heart and passion, befriended by
terror
the evil distraction.
It may not always show but from the chest it’s said,
I live to believe that we are not yet dead.
Oh god please believe we are not yet dead.
