RISING SIGN
the mirror was really
water and I drowned
or we were talking fire.
and the air i enhaled
roasted my lungs
Oh, where is the brotherhood,
your Age of Aquarius
my dear rising sign.
the strings on the lyre
have become barbed wire
slicing through my fingers
as I sing my
song of peace
descending into Hell
.
poems 2 die for 