| Barefoot Child I close my eyes and start to cry for this is what I see It's me swinging slowly on rotting wood lost in my own reverie White-blonde hair, boy-cut short my favorite dress red-checkered country and frills Apples high above me hang I stretch my toes to tap them suspended from the sky Hop! The swing beneath reminds me I cannot escape this earth Breezes, fresh and clean lightly scented with dew welcome of summer barefoot child tall sharp grass Revenge's Son And all that I have strived for, cried for, lied for in the blink of my eye, consumed by the flames. As I blink away tears, which I blame on the smoke, resolve never to trust another again. The price to be paid for this heart's loss, not gold, not silver, nor secrets locked. But rather in blood, another heart, and so begins the cycle anew, an eye for an eye and so much more. Tell me this then, what shall be done, when hearts return for revenge's son? When we do not know where this began, its end to find, if we can. |
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