Now and Then

Thinking about the people I’ve been,

Embalmed in nicotine, soon to be weaned,

A patch on the arm, a hole in the soul

And poison of heart is taking its’ toll


One peaceful moment, or two, or three

Held close to the breast, or out in the breeze

Escapes like mist through the fingers at night

While wandering alone, without thought, without sight


Looking back, or around, or straight up ahead

Does nothing it seems for this mess in my head

I built it you see, it’s all part of me

Thus the (oft time) repeated return to the trees


Hoping only to climb just high enough there

To escape this cloak of self-pity and fear

And crack the shell, this fell disguise,

Buried alive in here behind these eyes



But that was now,

Before it became then



copyright r.b.franklin 21/03/06


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