| A spirit within me, the second of my three Glides against the withering sky deep below my flesh At last my lips spring open to free what I�ve become I meet with spirits great and small who gather all around To listen to the silent song I wing between my breaths The world I feared once before has taken me as its child Soon the air is filled with gasps and thundering applause As my spirit glides & falls with sorrow in her eyes The sky turns red with fire & a blaze burns through my heart A thousand soldiers all at once lunge their spears into my head Weapons made not of silver but of heavy fear & brisk hate My audience has left me-not by choice, but by force The warriors of society have slayed a beast once more My spirits belong not to I but to those who feed And if they hunger for humiliation their bellies will be filled My death is not of spirit but of those who hunt for weakness I refuse to buy from fake mothers and fathers who sell their children They will never see truth-only the feared may witness the DEATH OF A SALESMAN Eric James COPYRIGHT October 29, 2001 |
| DEATH OF A SALESMAN |