oh the past has been my master- but I am the master of my fate- sheer willpower will not scale these walls- this lucid black negate- the demons that are my monsters- tossed out and never fed- you cannot fan the flames of the wanton- when your dreams are already dead; oh the past has been my master- but I am the master of my fate- the mirror cracked croaked hanging slanted- but light shines through the ediface- created by the cracks in the mirror and I taste it- clean pure but so far away; but so far away my master- I will not determine my fate- though the past has been my pastor- distaste has been my race...... The PooRe PoeT copyright 2004 7-15-2003