Were all ravens sitting on barbed wire,
consumed in the nuisance of our fires,
rubbed raw in all the wrong places,
dazed, confused,
becoming people with different faces;
strength averted or gained in Godspeed,
friendship caught in a crossfire,
when will our wings bleed black and retire to red,
buried alive in turmoil and desire.
Headed for box springs and feathers,
yet treading on broken china with injured heartstrings.
When will we stop to smell the coffee instead of wringing our necks,
sometimes we need to swallow the water and drown,
probe through our neglect and loss of heart,
maybe then we'll become shipwrecked and found,
