Old faces trouble a mind reaching for familiar, fate works the mental retarded disasters on the pulpit spilling forth direction as whimpers of real life fall forward in dressed for stage actors seeking restitution for the sins left on trial of faith and hate stuffing doors and closets closed to dreamers and children still hoping to live past corners lost in hope dashed Tip as ripple Calls image Sad song Crazy long A maybe Tired heart Somewhere Shadows fall Trust fails Trail moves Hurt pulls Take surprise Stranger help Somewhere Shut out Make believe Light turns As laying In love Grass captures Souls of shade Left on bed No plan Just leave Alone A life Past redemption Waiting end So it is the clown of hurt called abuse shade of image pain beyond self no words just a view

 

Poem/song by Kris Kristopherson
Epitaph


Her close friends have gathered.
Lord, ain't it a shame
Grieving together
Sharing the blame.
But when she was dying
Lord, we let her down.
There's no use cryin
It can't help her now.

The party's all over
Drink up and go home.
It's too late to love her
And leave her alone.

Just say she was someone
Lord, so far from home
Whose life was so lonesome
She died all alone
Who dreamed pretty dreams
That never came true
Lord, why was she born
So black and blue?
Oh, why was she born
So black and blue?