Native Ponyboy
Wake up! Our limbs are shaking in face of a probability.
You arms reaching through miles to rest the unrest, to quell the darkness.
Wake up! Our hands are building a bridge of complete immunity.
Our words breaking through blindness to change the face of the word of friendship.
Last night I wrote a new fable based on the vigor of lions.
Last night I ate at the table and listened to stories of courage.
We strive to seem impassive but this newscast has shaken.
Arms stretch for miles and miles.
Our blood has been thin and this day is cutting.
Our thoughts reach out like a phone line.
Although hours break us we still bleed the same.
Books soaked with the words describing the nights that we rewrote time.
Drives where death was cheated, roads turn to thoughts, we hold them.
Letters sent hours late; We bleed aimlessly.
