Mentality
I don't remember why I wrote this, but I remember that I wrote it when I worked in a bank cash vault on a pile of money. Prophetic?
cold wounded night
my delight
pierced by self evaluation
darkness blackens the hole
and pure personification
is all that I know
uncatered life
spills my pride
stalked by my imaginaion
blindness attacks my face
and cold intoxication
forces me brave
all rights reserved. Copyright Justin W. Price, 1998