january 20, 2009

author's note: i don't smoke, nor do i encourage smoking. i'm just using metaphors.

˙˙˙

the cold seeps into my veins
like cyanide into the air
a cigarette's ashes are scattered
upon the dusty shore of a lake lined with sand
is there no God to take my hand?

i ask only for forgiveness
retribution from all that i've done
is there no person who will understand
i don't know all the answers

i'm just a person
i'm just a figure, struggling to find her way
into the glass cabinet of treasures
that way God will keep me close, right?
right?