Life can reward, but more often she denies. Ignorant are we with our vacant stares and hollow eyes.
So at her communion table we beg yet again, dejected and soured by God's indiscretions.
Left with our empty unfrequent souls to cry with the dispirited half god of unwashed dreams.
Trapped in the steamed passageway of blasphemy, alone with our profane and uncheerful hearts.
Yearing for a time when we burned with the passion of youth.
-Johnny V.
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