Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

That Last Year

Last year was a tainted year,
Plagued by death and the dying,
They clung on longer than expected,
But they knew when they would leave,
Which was whenever they were ready to.

Last year was a smear of anger,
Crimson anger that felt like fires,
Like a red hot poker to my corneas,
I knew the hotness would end sometime,
But the anger, it lives within me somewhere.

Last year was a year of hate,
It flowed faster than any river,
It ravaged through homes and hearts,
It craved a something I could not give,
It made me cry too hard for anyone to cry.

Last year was pretty dreadful,
But through all the death and dying,
Through all the plagues of scarlet anger,
Through all the shuddering canals of hatred,
It was still better than all the loneliness I now face.

April 15, 2005

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That Last Year

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