The Ballad of Yoin

It eats me,
it eats at me so bad.
Throwing my hands high,
I attempt to emplode the memories once again,
and fail once again.
There will never be resolution for me.

I think back to
the first time I saw you
and how stolen from that one innocent moment
was a need, a yearning
that even now, can't be denied.

How intense we were,
how ravenous our thoughts.
Two people living on the edge,
finding a haven in each other
from the onslaught of pain
in our tortured lives.

Deep in our hearts,
where we kept our honor,
we knew we were like opposite sides
of the same coin,
we were one but could never be together.
Only in the shadows
of the secrets we kept
could the colors of our love be hidden.

We saw the tragedy coming,
Felt it coming with an angry roar,
like a train wreck that can't be stopped.
In our love, we found only truth,
and a passion we wouldn't deny.
So with our courage alive
and dripping from our chins,
we turned and faced it.

I pleaded for you to stop,
to change before it was to late.
To give up and clean yourself, of all this.
You just smiled that hard smile,
and talked about choices in life,
and sometimes the lack of them.

And when it happend,
when the wheels of our passion
jumped the track and the tragedy
we were destined to become
chewed up the earth like
an angry force of nature,
small furry animals scurried
back to the saftey of their homes
and startled crows
took to wing on the morning air.

There on the ground,
you looked up at me and
whispered my innocence.
I held you,
I looked into your eyes
and when your heart stopped
a lonely warrior looked to the heavens
and prayed for his redemption.

It eats me,
It still eats at me bad.


Part two


He hides bruises and
asks why their eyes are cast away.
Nothing but apathy meals are fed to him,
a victim of a social bulldozer.
Intensity and rage,
scream behind his hidden eyes.
Speak to him never of
false compassion or men in suits
who chew on lies like bubble gum
and blow them pink
in his face.
Men who wait
with black balls of blame,
to be thrown and fell him
low and lonely.
His dreams,
nothing but crushed rose petals
for the important to trod on,
so as not to sully time with the truth.
He was a beautiful man



Epilogue


Standing in the rain
buried under the cold ground
I still remember


Finish