By: DJ Hopson
There will be no time soon.
We will cease to exist and
turn to dust as we think.
Our bones will make no
difference to the dogs or
to the little children.
Mounds of dirt will replace
us and from heaven we are
force to hold our tongues
and answer your prayers.
The thoughts and wishes we
once had are coming into
our ears from foreign mouths
and are making us cry
because we remember
being naïve and careless.
Your selfish thoughts are
scorned, but listened to,
and we hope as you
spit your fowl words that
you are not spitting on the
dust that was once our bones.
