Many black savage buzzards fly above
my again wounded bleeding head.
I try to walk, but stumble on the
jagged rocks of thorns and dread.
Killing fiery heat that laughs and
whispers our certain death it's a
dying uncaring name.
Cuts deeply and bloody red as we curse
that blaspheming crying flame.
Terminal hot sun that burns and kills
our fragile burnt paper soul.
Chapters of loves strife that clings
to stories that could not be told.
We crash and fall to the filthy dirt
and painful rocks,
with the last of our
strength we try to again to regain.
We call out to God, please give me
your strong hand
how I feel this destroying pain.
Help me with horrible bitter taste
that I just again don't understand.
Be patient with me God,
this is rugged and unstable slipping sands.