Sunday, February 14, 2010

the gears keep turning round and round and round

the gears keep turning round and round and round
been trapped between the cogs well since that day
my aching bones into a dust are ground

within grief's pain machine I can be found
pulled slowly through this single path and way
the gears keep turning round and round and round

if only memories were small and round
i'd squeeze by teeth with some little leeway
my aching bones into a dust are ground

for memories are great, greater beat down
compressed, for every extra inch I pay
the gears keep turning round and round and round

remembering my brother's death, tears drown
my lungs with agony but every day
my aching bones into a dust are ground

my flesh has left with his without a sound
i'm trapped inside, I'll never get away
the gears keep turning round and round and round
my aching bones into a dust are ground

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos

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