I want to run, lifting foot after blackening foot.
Blistering bottoms and a beautiful breaking
from all.
Bring me peace. Bring me peace.
I want to write.
To fold up bits of me, wash them drop by drop,
hold them in my palm until the stained ink sleeps.
Bring me peace. Bring me peace.
I want to climb a tree
with bare apple stained feet
and find me hiding there in the sun
singing to be free
Bring me peace. Bring me peace.
I want to wake up where we're alive
standing nose to nose in the freezing cold
and the wind sweeps over slarlight waves and your whisper
changed my life.
Bring me peace. Bring me peace.
Monday, August 1, 2011
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